What You Wanted
by roseredautumn
Summary: Sarah finds herself with no family of friends to cheer her. She gets what she wanted...but it is not who she expected. Will her new friend help her find her way to her future? or lead her back to her past?
1. cliche

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: I'll continue if I get reviews

What you wanted

Sarah stared at the crowd, searching for her family...and found nothing. Then she lifted her face, heavy with makeup, to stare at the balcony. the crowd cheered, but she only had eyes for that balcony, where she felt someone staring.

Her heavy dark hair was pinned up, and she was made up like a doll...the better to see her. But she wished, how she wished, that she could see who watched _her_...could it be her father? or Toby? Her anger and hurt eased a little. Very probably, she reasoned, that was the case. Her face softened then, and she favored the inhabitants with a smile.

The crowd had not softened, but she held her breath, expecting something, anything, hoping as well. It all felt like something from _Phantom of the Opera_, she mused, adding whimsy to her small hope. But then a white gloved hand appeared on the edge of that balcony, and she stopped breathing altogether.

Another hand appeared, extending a rose. This again reminded her of the Phantom...which shook her enough to make her remember that she had just played Christine tonight. She watched in fascination as the white glove let the rose fly, ribbons fluttering like a butterfly. Then she watched with the same wonder as her nearly white hand drifted up to catch it deftly, a symmetry of actions.

Shivering, she brought the petals just under her nose, then blinked as er eyes caught the slim white note.

as the cast took their final bow, she remained standing, the words dizzying her head.

_oh , but I am here for you, sarah-mine_

_as your world falls down._


	2. aria of psalms

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: I'll continue if I get reviews

aria of psalms

"Sweet Jesus---" A ballerina began,hping on one foot, as Sarah laughed wistfully, cutting her off.

" Best you leave it at that, Bridget. Wouldn't you rather that you looked like a nun as opposed to a sailor?" the girl jumped, turning to see who had addressed her.

"Oh, Sarah--it's you..."  
"Who else would it be?" She inquired this curiously, though rather absently, tipping her head back to examine the elephant to be used for the 'Hannibal' scene. Bridget fidgeted, blushing.

"Well we---the girls, dancers, that is---We've been feeling watched." Sarah stopped midturn, her costume swirling awkwardly around her ankles in the absence of the petticoats. Her green eyes were suddenly sharp on the girl, who fidgeted more under the scrutiny.

"watched? What do you mean watched?" Bridget swallowed.

"well--I can't explain it Sarah--" Sarah suddenly looked thoughtful, another sudden change. Bridget swallowed the rest of her words, feeling silly. They were probably all nervous---it was only the second night after all. Bridget fluttered, the other girls snorting in a very unladylike fashion at her flailing.

"It's probably our imaginations--" Sarah nodded, her makeup covered face focused on one of the painted backdrops. Her mouth worked over the word, like an incantation.

"Imagination---right" But it was her imagination that seemed to plague her.

Sarah gave her final bow, making sure focus elsewhere when her eyes drifted to the balcony. It was easier tonight, as her family had come, bearing a story about a missed flight and flowers---a downright embarassing amount of flowers, by her estimation. She had forgiven them, though it still bothered her some, because Toby had been so glad to see her. She had forgotten her anger at the sight of those big brown eyes, remembering instantaneously why she had missed him so desperately.

Now, as she allowed herself one last look at the balcony, she'd found that her victory was somewhat incomplete. She held her breath as that same white glove appeared, holding a lily instead. _just as dramatic as a rose_ ahe mused, as her hand was again drawn irresistably to catch it, _perhaps because they are so opposite._ She turned it in her hand, looking at the note. It was tied in blue ribbon. She waited until she shuffled off stage this time, hiding behind a heavy curtain before she looked at the beautiful script.

_Curiousity killed the cat,_

_if you want me, you know where I'm at_

_P.S. I promise satisfaction...have no worry that I'll brink you back._

Now just what the hell was _that_ supposed to mean?

------------

sorry it's so short again...I'm trying to build up Sarah's anxiety.

haiaieru


	3. cancion del diablo

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: I'll continue if I get reviews

cancion de el diablo

Sarah scrubbed at her face, examining the much abused skin in the mirror on her dressing room wall. Traces still clung to her in places, but she gave up for now, stripping out of her costume. She flung the heavy thing to the side, disregarding who it belonged to. Fingering the heavy paper of the note, she debated heading to that balcony, putting herself in that position. Could it be...? She didn't dare finish the thought... However much it intrigued her.

Donning a clean blue dress that she had thrown on before tonights play, she left the room, letting her damned curiosity get the better of her. She crept up the stairs, (which creaked from age in the decrepit theater.

It was dark in the the balcony, the decorative velvet curtains brushed her palms as she felt her way as one blind. In the pitch darkness, her hearing was over acute, causing deep-set childhood paranoia to eat at her resolve...but just a little. Then it heightened to fever pitch.

Because everywhere, suddenly, there was sound...rolling over her skin like a caress, lilting along to the song she loved almost to the point of obsession...until it really did evoke 'the music of the night' ...and stirred her like it was meant to. Then he began to sing, his voice shuddering through her system like a distant train, and she could no longer deny who it was...

_Close your eyes,  
And surrender to your darkest dreams  
Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before  
Close your eyes, let you spirit start to soar  
And you'll live, as you've never lived before..._

She stiffened slightly as his leather glove slid down her arm, his mouth close to her ear.

"Ah...hello, Sarah mine..." She stuttered over her words, trying to force them from her lips.

"Y—y-you have n-no power over me--" He laughed, a sound intended to be sultry...which it accomplished, making her breath quicken.

"If I have no power, Sarah mine...then why do you still remember me?" He pressed a soft mouth to her neck, and she drew blood from her lip in an effort to stay silent.

"Isn't life unfair?"


	4. Think of me

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: I'll continue if I get reviews

think of me.

The next days Sarah spent she seemed to vibrate most of the time. She was in constant motion, like a...molecule? She might have known if she had succeeded in chemistry.

As it was, she was overwhelmed by an ominous sensation, like feathers brushing the edge of her senses. She'd have liked to blame in on...**him**...but she had a feeling it wasn't. It was a fear untempered by any other emotion (which the feeling associated with the goblin king was usually not).

Now, as she took a day trip with some of the ballerinas, the sense was intensifying. Bridget zeroed in on her, perfectly coiffed hair swishing as she strode close.

"you should stay the night too, Williams. Here in the city with us. Right girls?" they chorused their agreement, and Sarah blinked, pulling her head out of the clouds.

"Uh—why? You guys have something planned?" Some of them grinned...one, she noticed, said or did nothing. Her senses prickled again as she looked at the girl, and she half heard their explanation of their 'party' before she nodded, cutting Bridget off.

"sure, I'll stay..." It was only then that the mystery ballerina smiled, the brilliant flash of teeth framed by very familiar wild hair.

an: no, that particular ballerina is NOT Jareth. Pfft. The man is far too vain to take the guise of a girl. No, she is an OC of mine that I am adapting to my scheme...muhahaha. Wouldn't you like to know!  
Sorry this one is so short...the next one will be full of plottish goodnesss!


	5. Gallant

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: ok, thank you all SOO much for reviewing! I'm so excited about this right now, so I'll try to crank out as much as possible! 

Gallant

The mystery ballerina's name, Sarah learned, was Lenamara Vereux. She spoke in a lilting French accent when she was excited, and flashed that wild smile often. Sarah like her a lot, finding that she was a better companion than Bridget...who wasn't quite suited for the kind of talk Sarah liked. Lenam, (as she shortened it,) however was very stirring to talk to...every sentence she formed was lyrical. It sort of reminded her off the way Didymus would go about a conversation.

Now, she was a bit tipsy, but it didn't halt her grammar. She spun with a bright laugh, which pulled one out of Sarah as well. Lenam turned back to Sarah, a faint scar across the bridge of her nose underscoring her bright dark eyes in the glow of the streetlights.

"You reek of a secret, Sarah Williams. Do you know that?" Sarah blinked slightly widened green eyes at her, tilting her head in a cascade of dark hair.

"I do? How do you mean?" Lenam grinned, whirling like a dervish again.

"There's a jerk in your movements when someone asks you a question...as if you fear they already know" She stopped and fell into step beside Sarah, who looked thoughtful.

"Well, you could say that I'm being haunted by my past--" Lenam hid a smirk, smiling knowingly.

"A man?"  
"More than that..." _More than a man..._ her mind whispered, but she shook it off, turning her attention back to Lenam. "How'd you guess?" Lenam grinned, alarming Sarah when she spun in to the street.

"It's always about a man!" she laughed, but Sarah was lunging forward, gripping her thin arm. She was driven by instinct, pulling her back and away from the store front they had been nearing. A van came roaring up, onto the sidewalk and through the window. Sarah stood, clutching the smaller girl to her, as the glass snowed down in a shower of glinting reflections. She was for a moment lost,trapped by the realization that ; not only was her ominous warning quite accurate, she had done something to prevent he tragedy. She stared in reverie at the mosaic of fallen glass, until she finally registered the shaking and sound coming from her chest, where she clutched Lenam. Pulling back and steadying her by way of her shoulders, Sarah gaped slightly as she found that it was laughter, not tears, that shook her so. Sarah wondered briefly if her friend was drunk, but her face was clear. Her laughter was growing again, though it was still perfectly sane. She wiped hear eyes, which were leaking from her mirth.

"Oh—first you remember him, and then your instinct saves me! Oh—Brother will be so pleased!"  
Sarah froze, her breath constricting. _What brother?_

an: dun dun DUN! The plot arrives!


	6. History lesson from the Meddler

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: ok, thank you all SOO much for reviewing! I KNOW THEY ARE SHORT. TRYING TO FIX IT LAWL. so...if this one took a little longer, you know why. 

**History lesson from the meddler**

After the so-called 'messy business of making sure the passengers of the van were all right, (which they were...and quite drunk...) Sarah called the police. After intensive and unnecessary questioning, Lenam cut the officer off, dragging Sarah into a small tea shop.

Sarah refocused, listening to the clink up spoons and cups as a way to calm her nerves. Lenam focused only on her, an unnerving smile on her face. Setting her palms flat on the table, Sarah inhaled deeply.

"Ok—who are you really? I don't know any brother of yours--" Lenam laughed, the sound bright, like the crash of glass. She gave Sarah a level look.

"come now Sarah, don't lie. Share your suspicions...my coloring, my hair, my...nature. He would be hurt you deny him..." Sarah's hands wrinkled the table cloth, her gaze intensifying.

"No, it can't be...that was all a dream..."

"Nonsense. You still talk to your friends at least once a year...I know, because Didymus is a dear friend, and he does love to talk, as I'm sure you know..." She drifted off, the French influence in her tone making the whole ramble sound sort of like a brook. Sarah's hand were tight on a fold in the table cloth, an action Lenam seemed to notice. She tried to keep her breathing steady, focusing on the lilting laughter around her, trying to calm. She squeezed her eyes shut in order to screw up some courage.

"If you really are J---_his_ sister... then what are you doing above ground?" Lenam blinked, her expression suspended for a moment before her smile lifted a corner of her mouth---so like the king's.Dear god---she is his sister. 'Sarah mused, swallowed, and Lenam spoke again, her voice clearer.

"To be honest...I don't know why, exactly. But instinctively, it was to get away from brother dearest. He can be quite domineering you know..." she pouted. The waitress appeared, and Sarah gratefully ordered a strong tea...Lenam ordered a strange dandelion tea (which was, Sarah learned after peering astonished at the menu, available) and then, stranger still, asked for a straw...specifically one still wrapped. Sarah pondered what she had instead of lingering on the strange drink choice. Sh had to agree with the assessment of the King...but the thought was dropped as Lenam lilted on full speed ahead again.

"Secondarily---" Sarah absently wondered if that was really a word- "I thought I should like to meet you, as well. Quite a feat to outsmart brother dear...quite another feat in the first place to make him admire you enough to watch you at all---" Sarah blinked at her.

"You wanted to meet me? Why?" Lenam showed all of her teeth in her smile—it wasn't quite a human expression.

"Because, of course, I should like to know the 'Lady of the Labyrinth.' do you know they call you that?" Sarah eyes were like saucers, and shook her head to dispel some of the dizziness. Perhaps they needed a different subject.

"Excuse me, this is off subject--" Lenam cocked her head in apparent interest.-- "but why do you sound—well—French?" Lenam frowned at her, then smiled.

"Sarah...I was born there. I suppose I should explain—just how Jareth and I came to rule the goblins." Sarah felt her interest spark.

"Yes...I should like to know." Lenam grinned ferally.

"Very well. You see Sarah, we ourselves—are not goblins. That should be apparent. We are Fey, something you have probably guessed...I know you for a bright one, it shines through those eyes of yours. But what you probably don't know...is that we used to be everywhere." Sarah listened intently, nodding. After leaving the Labyrinth, the mystery of it's king had always tugged at her naturally curious mind. Their tea arrived, and she was momentarily distracted when Lenam extracted the plastic straw and used the stiff paper wrapper to stir her tea. Maybe she'd ask later... Lenam continued her commentary.

"As I was saying, we Fey used to be prolific. The Celts were quite right when they blamed us for every inconvenience...the courts there were very fond of mischief, liquor, and procreating...much like the mortals there." This surprised a laugh out of Sarah, scandalized as she was by the bawdy remark. Lenam grinned and wagged her brows before continuing.

"But, this is not to say that the majority were there...just quite dense. We were in every country. Jareth and I... were separated until I reached maturity. You see, I was born in France...not so long ago by our standards...While Jareth was born...somewhere in the British isle, I believe."  
"You mean you don't know?--"

" You are correct, I don't know for sure. In fact, I am not sure of Jareth's exact age, either. You see...I am much younger, and he is disinclined to tell me such things." She rested then, taking a sip of her tea. Sarah did the same, pondering every word that had been said. What would have been like to live surrounded by Faeries? Her head spun at the prospect.

She could imagine a sensory overload, all those musical voices laughing at her, long fingers hands grabbing her hand to lead her astray...and all those beautiful faces, upturned eyes and dazzling smiles. The King's face swam before her eyes, his own mismatched pair burning into her retina with an intensity that made her giddy as if oxygen deprived...or perhaps sleep deprived. She tried to refocus, taking a gulp of hot tea and wincing as it sent her into reality with a shudder of pain. Her voice was hoarse at the next question.

"If that was so...why are you in America?" Lenam looked at her, her expression turning wistful.

"because here we are unknown. The Natives of this land are a dying people, and they fey that lived here die in spirit along with them...for you see, we are tied to you mortals. In a way, each clan or court is intertwined with the lives of our homelands people...until they choose to forget us. Then we too, begin to die." Her eyes turned to Sarah, who sat shocked, her cup touching the bottom lip of her open mouth.

"So many of us journey here. These...Americans...are not our spirit bonded, but in a way their imaginations are substitute. So many think your country's imagination is dying...but it simply is not true. With every sensational new invention, the iron increases, but so do the young one's span of the world...until they imagine anything is possible. So we, by rule, are no exception." She leaned onto the table. "You, Sarah dear, are a fantastic example. It was your imagination that drew my brother, and the reason he loves you still." Sarah started as Lenam's slim hand suddenly gripped hers. Her heartbeat increased once more, and her green eyes met dark ones, now swimming with magic.

"Which is why I'm taking you back." And with that the world fell away, and Sarah felt herself fly through the fabric of the Veil.


	7. IRONy

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: I'm so sorry that it took sooo long for an update...but I've been having a hard time developing a coherent plot...so bear with me. I will finish this thing eventually, just be patient, mmkay? I loves you all, please review. It helps me motivate!

IRON—y

Sarah groaned,her eyes fluttering against the sudden burst of color. Hadn't it been night before? Yes, she definitely recalled an inky sky...but as she opened her eyes, the sun glared into her eyes...instantly causing a migraine. She sucked in air trough her nostrils, reviewing what she remembered very carefully.

Tea, she distinctly remembered tea...and fleetingly that her companion had stirred with the paper covering instead of the straw...Lenam. Her eyes snapped open, her torso lifting into a sitting position as panic began to thrum through her veins. Looking wildly around, she was vaguely aware of a leaf...no several leaves...in her hair, but they were soon forgotten as she took in the sight.

She was in a forest, that much was certain, (although the details of how she had gotten there were foggy...) but what quickened her breath perhaps more than the sudden change of scenery was the...character of the scenery.

Not that it wasn't lovely. The trees themselves were silver, but their leaves made no sound, as if they were smoke. She tentatively touched one, gasping slightly when it shivered, revealing that the leaves did in fact rustle...or perhaps whisper would be a better term. Her eyes seemed to be overwhelmed, but a small part of her sang with reckless abandon at such a place, somewhere so very like her dreams.

Picking her way over roots (some of which obligingly moved, producing numerous squeaks from her...) she called for Lenam, her original awe replaced with the anxiety of being alone. At about her third call, she was met with silvery laughter as a response. She first suspected a tree, as that seemed to be where it came from, but looked up curiously anyway.

There, cradled in the limbs, was Lenam. She grinned down at Sarah, her wild blond hair sticking out as if she had been rolling in leaves. She stroked the tree like a cat, the great silver thing shivering periodically in what seemed to be delight...sort of like purring. Sarah frowned, her fists settling on her hips, which served only to bring another delighted laugh out of the little fey. Sarah jabbed a finger in her general direction.

"Just what do you think you're playing at, Lenamara Vereux! You can't just yank me off to god knows where!" Lenam smirked, flinging herself out of the tree. Sarah managed a horrified squeak before Lenam hit the ground, crouched like a cat. Sarah's expression shifted to a scowl as she took in the all-too-familiar smirk on her friends face.

"Oh, but Sarah, let's not be having that rubbish. God doesn't know...or at least if he does he won't be telling...but I'm sure you do, friend Sarah. It isn't, after all, just any old place..." Her smirk spread into a grin at the look on Sarah's face, unable to hide the unholy glee. Sarah stammered shortly after, her pretty face pale with a mixture of fright and nerves...and a bevy of other emotions.

"B-b-but you can't mean...the underground?!! Have you lost your mind?!" she blustered, but Lenam didn't flinch one time, her grin firmly in place.

"Oh Sarah, worry not...I assure you it is still quite firmly in place in my skull." Sarah gaped at her, a nerve twitching just under her eye. Lenam laughed, her hand fluttering in the air, displaying a scorch mark on her right. Sarah blinked at it, but this turned out to be the moment's distraction Lenam needed to grab her hand with the unmarred one, yanking her along behind her.

When they made it out of the forest, it was Lenam's turn to scowl. For in front of them stood the entrance to theLabyrinth, complete with the one and only Hoggle, killing the faeries.

"Bugger..." Lenam muttered, an impressive scowl plastered on her face. Sarah gaped at her once more, looking from her back to the Labyrinth.

"Bugger? You mean to say you don't know a way around this?" Lenam sighed, walking forward, Sarah staring at her back for a moment before trotting behind.

"Shouldn't you be able to just um...poof...directly into the castle?" Lenam's scowl deepened as she looked over her shoulder at Sarah.

"I'm working on it, alright? It's not an exact science..."

"Science? It's not science at all! It's magic!" Lenam pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing theatrically. Sarah stood, arms akimbo, her face mulishly set. Lenam turned to her, frowning.

"Look, perhaps you are used to my brother's spontaneous showers of glitter--" she fluttered her hands, snorting, "But I am much more novice at this,and so cannot promise the same show." she sighed. "I'm sorry Sarah." Sarah blinked at her, suddenly sensing the difference between the king and...she just realized...the princess. She bit her lip thoughtfully, studying the honest look on her friends fey face.

"Alright...we're good. It's just, this whole--" she gestured at the stone walls. "thing—was sort of a scary experience the first time around." Lenam turned to look at it, smiling somewhat fondly.

"Yes, I know. But there is no thirteen hours this time Sarah. Come." She walked forward, and this time, Sarah followed.

Not surprisingly, Hoggle was quite shocked to see them. He dropped his spray bottle, sweeping into his own clumsy interpretation of a courtly bow, bringing an amused smile to both of the girls lips. Lenam grinned at him.

"What ho, gatekeeper?" She said teasingly, and he straightened, smiling fondly at her, then grinning at the sight of Sarah.

"I figure you might be tellin' me, what with ye bringin' S-Lady Sarah along, Princess." Lenam grimaced at the title, waving her marred hand. Hoggle caught the hand gently, surprising Sarah, and surprising her more still when Lenam looked only mildly impatient.

"How'd ye be getting' that, princess?"

"Only Lenam in private company, Hoggle. And it's only an iron burn...from Sarah's ring." Sarah gasped softly, glancing down at her hand. She began to twist it off with her other hand, but Lenam gripped her wrist, shaking her head. Sarah looked up from the dark ring, puzzled at why she hadn't remembered where she'd gotten it, or why she felt so compelled to keep it on. She looked to Lenam, but her face offered nothing, uncharacteristically smooth and free of a grin. She turned her wide green eyes to Hoggle's wizened face, and stayed there when his dark eyes stayed on hers. He reached out, carefully avoiding the ring in question, examining it. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and thoughtful.

"Ye'd best be keepin' that ring if ye'll be goin' back inta the Labyrinth, Sarah. Ye never know what could happen."

Note: yes, the iron thing is related to Holly Black's books...which by the way are awesome. And yes, that IRON ring will eventually be used as a plot puzzle piece. 


	8. Glamourous

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: thank you for the reviews! I really do read them all, and reply whenever I can, so feel free to make suggestions, or ask if you have questions.

Glamorous

To Sarah's surprise, it seemed that Lenam knew much more about the Labyrinth than she would have believed it possible for _anyone_ to know. While Sarah stumbled over crumbled bits of old, one impressive towers, Lenam would stand at the next splitting of paths and stand, as if running over some complex map in her mind. Sarah frowned at that...if that was the case, why was this taking so bloody long?

Currently, they stood at a three-pronged intersection. Lenam had not altered from her routine of contemplation at these spots, but Sarah (being Sarah) felt curiosity gnawing at her stomach, and subsequently, opened her mouth.

"Might I ask you exactly how you know where to turn?" Lenam smiled, looking amused, and also impressed at Sarah's very...un-American diction.

"I don't." Sarah blinked, then allowed her eyes to widen, which brought a grin out of the slight fey.

"You don't?! Then what the hell is it you do at every intersection, hmm?"

"Quite simple. I search for the most logical path." She then stepped onto the path to the left, forcing an incredulous Sarah to follow after her.

"Logical? The Labyrinth has logic?" Lenam laughed as the turn took them into an orchard.

"Let's rest our bones here, eh?" she asked, before plopping into a tuft of grass. "Yes, Sarah, the Labyrinth has it's own brand of logic. In fact, I do believe Frost explained, non?" Sarah blinked at that riddle in disguise. Turning, she looked to a heavy peach tree, which caused her to shiver unconsciously. Frost? _Oh...Robert Frost..._ she mentally groaned, turning back to Lenam.

"You mean...pick the one that hasn't been taken as much?" she inquired, and Lenam flashed her a pleased smile.

"However impossible it seems...the Labyrinth changes it's layout every time a new challenger steps through the gates. There is a correct route to take, and the Labyrinth always makes those paths seem as though they have not been worn. Because it is human nature to follow the crowd..." Sarah nodded. Lenam smiled, standing to pluck a plum from the tree above her. "Go ahead and take something if you're hungry...except the peaches. Those are my brothers...he's always in that tree." She cast Sarah a sly look, But the dark haired girl seemed to miss it, snapping a pear from a tree.

Soon, she was wandering a little through the small courtyard. Lenam followed her vaguely, humming to herself most of the time. Sarah looked at each tree, and found that some of them looked normal, where others were clearly not. She strained her neck upwards to look at fruit that looked like an apple dusted in sapphire shimmer, and another tree which held fruit that glistened like moonstone, shaped like little bells. But, by far the strangest was at the center.

There stood what seemed to be an upside down tree, with the roots bearing strange orange leaves, but no fruit, and a trap door at it's base. She opened her mouth, but someone else spoke.

"They grow underground." Sarah tore her head up to the sound of the voice in a flurry of dark hair, to rest her eyes on a white haired fey. The woman smiled, and slithered down the crooked trunk in a fashion in which no human could move. Sarah felt Lenam at her back, rigid with tension.

"Careful..." But Sarah's eyes never left the magnificent creature. Her eyes were almond and like jewels, shifting violet and blue within a face of snow, her fingers four jointed and tipped in what looked like the black ink out of ballpoint pens. Sarah stared, her feet shuffling forward, but Lenam gripped her arm. Sarah blinked, looking back at Lenam. Her blond head was slumped forward as if she was in pain, and it was this that shook her out of her reverie. Sarah gripped her friends arms, but Lenam did not lift her head.

"It's a trap Sarah...he knows you're here. Don't worry, I'm alright...turn back around, keep her in your sight..." Sarah shook her head, her face white, and there was a husky laugh behind her. She stiffened, glancing back at the lure that had been sent to trap her. The woman smiled widely, showing sharp teeth.

"Why Princess, how nice to see you."  
"Barenwyn...you didn't have to steal my glamour..." The fey, now known to be Barenwyn, laughed brightly.

"Oh tsk, Lenamara, to hide your pretty face from your friend..." Lenam growled ferally, and Sarah was torn about who to look at. Her decision was made for her as Lenam flipped her hair out of her face. Sarah stare at her friend, her mouth working silently. Lenam was in fact...more mesmerizing.

Perhaps it was the wildness in her dark eyes...which turned out to contain many colors, not just black. Or perhaps it was that her face was more upswept, as if in permanent joy. But Sarah looked between the two, confused and overwhelmed. Lenam frowned fiercely, straightening.

"Sarah... I had thought to make you feel more comfortable here...and I look..."  
"Like him." Sarah finished, and Lenam nodded reluctantly, then scowled at Barenwyn, who shrugged. Lenam continued to grimace at her, the expression made all the more intense by the sharp contours of her face.

"Why would...brother dearest...let us out of the Labyrinth? He could just watch us if he's so curious." at that, Barenwyn grinned, chuckling.

"Ah, but it seems he can't. You recall the phrase you spat at him, _dear Sarah_?" Sarah winced at the hiss of her name, but licked her lips, nodding.

"you have...no power over me..." Barenwyn nodded, chuckling in a low rumble under her breath. With one long fingered hand, she flicked open the trap door at the base of the roots, but made no move to descend.

"There is a power in words, Sarah. In effect, he is under...hmm..magical restraining order, yes? He can't see what goes on in the radius of your person." Lenam frowned, and Sarah blinked, still unused to the drastic change in her friends features. Lenam pressed her lips into a thin line.

"So I suppose he doesn't know I'm involved?"  
"Not directly, no."  
"I'll be in trouble then?"  
"Most likely..."

"Bugger..." Lenam muttered fiercely, apparently not anxious to listen to her brother's berating. Sarah watched the entire exchange, both hands at her mouth, the tips of graceful fingers at her lips. Her eyes flicked downward to contemplate the fragrant compost under her kidskin boots.

_What would Lenam choose? _Perhaps it was an irrational fear, but she didn't want to continue trekking through the Labyrinth by herself a second time. She was sure she couldn't make sense of the structure's capricious sense of logic. _Capricious..._she considered the word, and decided absently that it worked rather well for every fey she'd ever met so far...to a certain extent. _But...Jareth...was a little different..._she reflected. He had pursued her so single-mindedly, as if he were a train, or a wrecking ball...

Her head snapped up as Lenam cleared her throat. She shifted on her feet, wearing an apologetic look. _For what?_ Sarah wondered, _for the glamour?_ Sarah smiled, opening her mouth to tell her to think nothing of it, when Lenam sighed.

"Well Sarah I'm sorry but...we might as well take the shortcut...and get this over with" Sarah blanched, her green eyes widening incredulously.

"What?!" Lenam winced, but Sarah charged forward, as if she hadn't seen the action. "you can't just make that decision! Lenam, no offense, but your brother is nuts! He took my brother, sucked me into this freakshow, and almost got me killed--"

"Sarah!" Lenam snapped it, and Sarah snapped to, glaring at Lenam. Lenam sighed heavily. "I love my brother, but I do know he acted foolishly. But tell me Sarah..." She paused, turning softer eyes on Sarah. "Did your young heart not wish for all those things at some point? And tell me, as a separate truth...have you ever known another man that did everything that his lady wanted?" Sarah frowned fiercely, but nodded slowly. She was after all, at least mature enough to acknowledge when truth was spoken. Lenam smiled, apparently relieved. Barenwyn spoke then, but her voice was no longer teasing, as if the matter was of utter importance to her.

"and we of Faery do nothing by halves. If Jareth believed you wanted those things, he would have –moved the stars, was it?--to give it to you."

Sarah chewed her lip, looking between the two women. If _Jareth loved her_...Her blood roared in her ears at the thought, and her mind swam with the tumult of emotions. Fear...giddiness...disbelief(in massive quantities)...excitement..and others she was scared to identify. If the book was true?...was it so far-fetched? Lenam believed it...could it be true? A part of her wanted it to be true, to have the Goblin King be so fascinated with her, wanted to let him have what he wanted...and another part of her wanted to stubbornly see him as anything but a villain.

As it turned out, her curiosity rose to stifle her other worries, as I usually did in humans. Her lip still firmly between her teeth, she looked to Lenam. She had to know.

"alright. Let's take the shortcut." Lenam grinned, tugging her toward where Barenwyn was already descending, singing as she went.

In the castle, a goblin bowed until his jagged helm scraped against the flagstones and rushes.  
"your Majesty, the seamstress Barenwyn confirms...the lady has returned." Jareth grinned and laughed as if the breath had just been knocked from him.

An: and they continue to get longer!!! yay! Okay, I should come out with another chapter soon. 


	9. Oleander

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: I'm glad you all like the last chapter, but a lot of you seem to be worried that I won't continue this story. Worry not! This story has a hold on me, and it's not letting go!

Also, there is a reference picture of Lenam linked in my profile, drawn by me. Oh, and one of Barenwyn too.

**Oleander**

Sarah lifted up the hem of her blue dress, tentatively placing one booted foot on the first step. Lenam snickered at her from a few steps down, but she wasn't about to let that teasing overwhelm her sense of caution. Taking a deep breath, she began to climb down, her eyes wide so as to let any light in in the darkness. Reaching the bottom, she heard the rustle of Barenwyn's gown, and seconds later the room was alight.

Sarah gaped up at the ceiling, transfixed. It seemed the upside-down tree was actually many more times immense as it appeared. Thick, russet colored limbs wound their way outward, clinging to the earthen ceiling. Pale fruit hung, soft translucent white skin stretched over what appeared to be red flesh. Ever curious, Sarah stretched out a hand to stroke one, snapping her hand back with a gasp as she found they were warm as flesh.

"The trolls planted it." Lenam remarked, and Sarah looked to her, her green eyes curious. Lenam smiled. "take one. It might help us trick Jareth's wards..." Barenwyn clucked her tongue.

"Now, Princess, you know it won't last long against that magic..."

"It's worth a shot..."

"It's not worth shite..."

"I beg to differ..." she snapped, looking to Sarah. "What could it hurt? Trolls aren't the tricksy type." Sarah deliberated, before taking one against all caution. Studying the fruit, she seemed to miss the sly smirk that slid onto Lenam's mouth. Barenwyn grumbled.

"Alright, you two, let's be going..." Lenam followed after her, and Sarah trotted behind, the fruit close to her lips. It was strange, but it felt hauntingly like the brush of lips before a kiss.

Jareth stirred in his throne, blinking blearily at his cat-like pose for a total of three seconds before snapping to alert. He could have sworn the dream he'd just had was real...it had felt that way. Closing his eyes briefly,he could remember warmth brushing across his lips, but he could recall no image. Which meant...He felt is lips curl into a sly smirk, opening his mismatched eyes. _Sarah_ his mind whispered insistently, and for once he didn't respond adversely to the sound of it ringing between his ears. She was here, he could feel her. Her presence sang along his skin, and his fey nature thrilled at the thought of who he considered his bonded. _Revenge?_ A small part of his mind hissed, but no...he'd have that when he had her. And this time...he would not lose.

Sarah soon found that the shortcut was actually quite long. Trudging behind the two long legged fey, her stomach began to growl, and began to consume her caution in the absence of food. She stared at the fruit in her hand. Finally she gave up, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh, shivering slightly as the warm liquid poured down her throat, burning like whiskey. It tasted like some aged and expensive liquor, but filled her stomach and warmed her insides, so she couldn't complain. Taking another bite, which, provided the warmth in the fruit, felt like a kiss, she hardly noticed that she stopped walking. Neither did she notice when both of the other women turned to watch her, one in glee, the other in apparent disgust. Swallowing, she did notice when the floor bottomed out on all of them, sending them plunging into even deeper darkness than before.

Humming to himself, Didymus seemed to laugh with delight when the three lovely ladies came rolling out of a pipe and into his swamp. Chortling to himself, he dismounted and trotted forward, seemingly ignoring Barewyn's cursing.

"Oh damn it all---this isn't what I wanted at all..." She grumbled, while Lenam sat up, flicking her hair out of her face.

"Deal with it Barry, we have to find a way out of this place--"

"B- Barry—WHAT?!" Barenwyn snarled, but Lenam snorted and looked around to Sarah.

Her green eyes were open and fever bright, her cheeks flushed. She looked a bit dazed, but still aware. Looking to Lenam she blinked, as if to adjust her eyes.

"What did that fruit do?"

"er well...it makes you like one of us for a while. I'm sorry Sarah but it seemed like the best way to camouflage you..." Sarah stared at her, eyes unusually penetrating, then nodded. She felt...strange. Her head seemed weightless, as did everything bu her arms, which felt leaden, but that seemed to be lessening. But the strangest feeling was of a non-physical sort...in fact, she couldn't quite point out what it related to at all. Turning her head, she saw Didymus, and managed to form her face into a smile for him.

"Hello Didymus. You're looking well..." but Barenwyn cut in.

"That means all the more, since you can't tell untruths now..." Sarah darted a glance at her, swallowing. So that's what the strangeness was then? She'd had a basic human defense taken from her...she could manage, right? She tried to ignore the edge of panic trembling at the edge of her psyche, turning back to Didymus, who was looking worried.

Lenam glared at Barenwyn behind her, receiving the match in return, but Sarah didn't see it, focusing on her friend, a source of solidity in her currently quicksilver world.

"Didymus—we were on a shortcut before. Do you think you could at least show us a way out of this? We don't have Ludo this time..." Didymus removed his hat, looking somewhat abashed, as if he'd been caught in the hen coop.

"Ah my dear...I am afraid I will lead you on another path, as I have little choice. The king wishes to see you directly." Sarah tried to throw a tantrum, to say she did not want to see him, but her tongue curled backward at the lies. Trying again, she managed to at least answer softly.

"good..."

Jareth stood in his throne room, for once devoid of goblins. His hands were clasped behind his back, his eyes closed, and his head tilted to the side as if he were listening for something. Which he was, of course.

Thought they were dim, he could hear the click of Ambrosius's feet, and the soft padding of the leather slippers of Barenwyn and...he presumed another fey. But what he focused on was the gentle thud of man made boots, uneven in rhythm as the wearer stopped occasionally to look at things. Sarah...it was her, he knew.

His thoughts whirled with her, at his ears tuned to her soft steps. Had she grown even more lovely? He had seen her in the balcony, with so little light, and he had thought she had. He had watched her sing like a lark on stage, (which he hadn't known she could do) and been caught in her spell...but neither of those times had let him see those green eyes, ablaze with light and defiant. _Years ago now_, he pondered, it had been years since he'd looked her in the face. But what would he see there? Fear? Fascination? Or would she stubbornly hate him until the end of her days? _No,_he thought, as stubborn as she was, he would win her.

Opening his eyes, he watched the great door scrape open with a groan. Mentally switching to analytic mode, he grimaced upon seeing his sister. She gave him a cheeky smile, and his scowl deepened. Turning his extraordinary eyes to Barenwyn, he waved his hand.

"Leave us. Take the..."he struggled, finally deciding he couldn't call Sarah a girl. "lady with you for a moment and wait." Nor could he look at her just yet. Barenwyn curtsied and ushered an annoyed Sarah out. He rounded on his sister.

"You?! You brought her here, of you own accord?" his tone was intense and low, teetering toward anger. His sister nodded slowly, looking much like their father it was eery. His grumbled, apparently thinking. "Why?"

"She saved my life...and she thinks of you still." He looked up at her words, surprised.

"Does she now?"

"She must. She was far too flustered by your visit, as if she was overthinking it..." Jareth snorted at his sister's logic, but he had to admit it sounded plausible. He fixed her with a solid look.

"...There's something else." Lenam stayed solemn for four seconds before her face split into a large grin.

"Ah well. Happy birthday brother."

Sarah was slumped against the wall when Lenam poked her head back out, looking cheerful.

"Your turn Sarah..." Sarah frowned at the congruence of this and a doctor's office. Straightening, she strode through the door, and this time forced herself to look at him.

She'd forgotten how...magnificent he was. Beautiful and deadly, like an oleander, or something twice as poisonous. He was not looking at her as yet, but when she closed the door, he turned and fixed her with those eyes of his. They both froze, as if ensnared. She studied him, her eyes taking in each detail of his face. Slowly, she realized he looked tired,a little drawn. She wondered what could do that to him, who she'd thought was invincible...a girlish notion. Thinking it over,she remembered Lenam telling her about...what was it?...the spirit-bonded. And she had said that Jareth had needed her for that reason. Could this be what was draining him so?

Jareth stared at her. Lovely was not the word at all..perhaps divine would do. She had grown taller, he noted, and shapelier. The loose dress she wore did little to disguise her now womanly shape. He tried not to linger on that and forced is eyes to her face, specifically those eyes. He didn't know what he'd expected to see in them, but it certainly wasn't awe. He looked at the rest of her face, finding a particular point of interest in her mouth. It was fuller than he remembered, and even more irresistible. Dimly, he was aware he was caught by her, like a fly in her web. But she made no move to use her advantage, and he wondered why. Irritated with this impasse, he forced a smirk.

"well Sarah, I'm sure you must be _ever_ so pleased to see me..." She hesitated, and he moved closer, waiting. She seemed as if she was fumbling with her tongue, until she finally just blurted.

"yes." she winced then, and he felt his brows raise to the hairline. What was this? He looked at her curiously, as if he were a cat staring at a canary.

"Sarah? What new game is this? Honesty is quite..." he juggled a crystal. "novel for you, I must say." Sarah glowered at him, (which did not dim her beauty, he found...) and attempted to keep her mouth shut. He grinned, pleased at this new development.

"Oh Sarah, I think I see. Well, now that I have such an advantage..." she started as his hand landed at her collar and slowly slid up her neck, causing her lashes to flutter unconsciously. "I think, that we have much to catch up on, hmm? So tell me, Sarah mine..." he leaned forward, lips at her ear. "who has the power now?"

an: yay! Longer still! Oh, and the underground tree is for the most part Holly Black's idea, with a few alterations when it comes to the fruit on my part.


	10. Corner

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: " OMG, its been like a month since I last updated! Wow, I've been busy as hell… I miss being able to write every night. I love writing this story soooo much." -Starchip13

yeah...ditto. .'

oh, and anything that seems familiar...many ideas were taken from the works of Holly Black. I love that woman (like a sister) 3

Corner

Sarah wasn't sure what was more dizzying, his constant circling, or the wild scent of him. She flushed, mortified at her own fixation with a madman...though if there was ever a fine specimen with which to be obsessed with, he would definitely be it.

More disturbing still was the triumphant smile on his face, warning her that he would surely press his advantage... Not that she had expected him not to. He stopped, which gained her attention, no doubt just as he had intended. His face held her eyes however...she couldn't look away. He looked better, it seemed...had Lenam been right? He smirked, and she forced a scowl.

"Well...I believe we should start with...why exactly didn't you throw a hissy fit , hmm? And demand my dear sister take you back?" His voice was smooth, not so much teasing as curious. It was designed to soothe her nerves, perhaps. It didn't work; she struggled with her disobedient tongue once more, finally managing to close her jaws tight with and audible snap. He must have heard it, for when he looked at her again, his mismatched eyes were full of mischief. Previously his head had been the only thing turned towards her, but now he turned to face her completely, stalking forward. Sarah snapped her eyes shut, afraid despite her best efforts. Her head jerked when his leather glove traced her jaw.

Her eyes were open as fast as they had closed, and her heart in her ribs felt like a hawk in a wire cage. His face was close to hers.

"Come now Sarah---what have I to gain from such question? Or, perhaps the better question, from your answer?" She bit her lip, but the words spilled out anyway.

"I was—curious. I wanted to know if you had changed at all...if it was perhaps my frivolous little girl self that had made you seem s--" she stopped, clamping her mouth shut again, her cheeks almost scarlet. He grinned, as if he had guessed her next word. He didn't move away, and she saw it as pointless to try and escape. His nearness was turning her brain foggy, but it was strangely euphoric.

"And am I?" He inquired, and she blinked.

"I'm sorry what?" He grinned at her wolfishly.

"Am I the same, Sarah?" She shivered as he spoke her name. He made it sound like an intimate gesture in and of itself. She shook her head to clear it.

"Yes."

"And did you wish I would change Sarah? When I was gone from your sight?" He turned away. Her breath caught at the wist in his voice. She didn't understand this man...no, not man...this...creature? What could she call this being that had once claimed to love her? He was a man and yet not, but he was by no means a beast. At least not entirely, she didn't think. Licking her lips, she found the courage to move just close enough that she wouldn't have to yell (he had moved rather far). She cleared her throat, her lips trembling over the words.

"Perhaps then, at fourteen, I would have changed you. But I have grown enough to realize that..." she swallowed. "Some things are more beautiful for all their wildness." He stood still, but she was certain he had heard her. She thought perhaps now he might gloat, or steal a ravenous kiss (a though that was not as frightening as it should be...). But he did neither. He heaved a sigh instead, turning back to give her an enigmatic smile.

"You should rest. Lenam should be out there eavesdropping..." he drawled the second sentence, tossing the door a sarcastic smile. "So she'll be able to take you to suitable rooms." Sarah blinked at him for a minute, unsure of what to make of his response to her words. Taking a breath, she shuffled out the door, backwards, her eyes never leaving his.

Jareth stood in the middle of the room, where she had left him. He was bewildered by her words, or rather the very last ones. She had said...he was beautiful? And wild, but that he could understand. They were only words, however poetic, so why did they warm his blood? And the way they were said...he knew she was afraid of him. She knew she couldn't lie, so why had she bothered to say anything at all? It did and didn't make sense, depending upon the angle you viewed the scenario from. If he saw the ideal angle, it made perfect sense, but alas, nothing was ever ideal.

He wasn't sure what he wanted it to mean, but still it had moved him. Was this love again? Another facet of the mysterious stirring he felt for her? And for her to think him beautiful...was it only fascination? Could he make it more? Those words, coming from her lips, had felt like a confession of love, though that was ridiculous. Wasn't it?

He slumped into his throne, resolving to overthink it. It might be obsessive, but it would make him feel a heap better.

Sarah gaped at the room Lenam had led her to. Suitable? They were amazing. She tried to ask Lenam what his rooms were like if this was she was to be sleeping in, but Lenam was distracted. She smiled apologetically at her friend.

"I'm sorry Sarah---but I really do need to speak to my brother---"

"Why? Are you still in trouble?"

"No—it's just a trivial matter, really."

"Oh. Okay--" Lenam smiled again, leaving the sumptuous room. She made her way back to the throne room. It was an altogether bad idea to bother her brother in the midst of his brooding, but she didn't care a whit. She was nothing if curious, and she needed some serious background info for her schemes to work. She opened the doors without invitation, unphased by his intense scowl.

"There now. Now you don't have to marry some witless twit from the Seelie courts, you can just---"

"This solves nothing, Lenamara. I'll have to marry one of them if I'm to have heirs. You said yourself you didn't want the crown, don't you want to avoid it?" His voice was hollow, and he leveled a look at her that suggested the matter was over. That only served to make her more curious. She planted her hands on her hips, her head tipping to the side in a questioning gesture. He heaved a sigh, knowing this was inevitable.

"What did she say? Tell me Jareth."

"Lenam, please--"

"It's an innocent question _dearthair_." They stared each other down for a few seconds, before he shook his head.

"She is...fascinated by me. I think. I don't know _deirfiur. _She confuses me to no end." He snapped up, pacing across the floor. Her brows shot up in surprise. Her brother talked to her far more personally than most everyone, but it was rare to see him this confused about anything, let alone admit it.

"You really...love her?" She examined her brother. Unlike humans, the fey, every single one, considered love sacred. It was, however for more rare here, where customs bound many, and some were questionably incapable of it. She caught her brother's eyes, seeing many emotions there. But had she seen love, she would not have known it by sight. She understood her brother's desperation, possibly better than he.

Their father had been an absolute rake, and she was technically illegitimate. (though Jareth would hang the hob that so much as thought to say as much) She remembered that her mother had felt that rare touch, she had seen the desperate pain every time her father left to return to his wife. Jareth did not look half so pained, but she felt the echo of atmosphere that suggested that she was right. He grumbled.

"And if I do? You've heard the trolls sigh it at their human friends...such strange things, trolls...or in Ravus's case, his lover. 'Gone in one faerie sigh' all of them say, and it's truth. I'll have her like one has smoke, or a butterfly. A brief joy then--" he snapped his jaw shut, and she knew he was embarrassed, despite the lack of a blush.

"Then I'll make her like us."

"You can't. Lenam, that's ridiculous."

"And why can't I?" She raised her brows, crossing her thin arms. "If the troll's fruit can make her seem like one of us, surely there's a permanent way to do it." she paused, her slim hand combing through her hair as she schemed. "I know! I'll ask the _áilleacht_!" she clapped her hands together. Jareth paled, unable to stop her as she ran out of the hall. But as worried as he was, he was not half so worried as the one who had been listening.

An: sorry guys, I've been so busy with senior crap. Feel free to yell at me.

Oh and, the foreign stuff...it's gaelic. In my story, this used to be the only language Jareth and Lenam had in common.

Translations:

_dearthair-brother_

_deirfiur- sister_

_áilleacht- the beauty. (you'll see .)_


	11. Ailleacht

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: okay, so sorry I took so long. I just had to finish the chapter on paper to feel complete. -.-' So, I pray you'll forgive my quirks. I did try to make up for the wait with length, and to apologize in advance...for I need to come up with my next move.

Also, for the purpose of my story, the times when Hoggle lied will be ignored. Or maybe I'll incorporate it. We'll see

_áilleacht_

Lenam lifted her nose to the air, the swamp mud sucking her ankles in. She wrinkled her nose slightly, pulling one out in an attempt to walk. Pitching forward to build her inertia, she set off squelching across the swamp.

As the swamp began to thin out in vegetation, she couldn't help but remember the first time she had been to see the ailleacht.

She had only been a youngling, not halfway towards her first bleeding, a "kitten" as her mother would have said. Her mother, as she remembered, had been much like a desperate mother cat that day, fierce and ever-changing. She had dragged her pell-mell through the swamp, her raven hair like a banner behind her. Even as a child she had recognized the change in her mother. It was there in her madly darting electric blue eyes, in her unusually choppy movements. How confused she had been in her youth, though she had known that something was going to change that day, though she never knew how much. So she followed her mother through the mud.

She left her with the loveliest woman she had ever seen, but never did ask if she could take care of a child. Instead, she ran into the deep night, a sheen of black fur as she wrapped herself in the most fitting form,

The memory caused a dull ache behind her sternum, but she shook her fair head, as if to rid herself of it. She was close now, close to her surrogate. She could smell ancient magic in the air, and the dirty shrubs gave way to the shuddering sentient trees. She smiled at them as to dear friends, murmuring her gratitude when their branches drew her out of the mud and onto the rocks.

She lifted her head to look at the largest tree, it's silver branches twisted like jewelry. Her smile blossomed like a morning glory. For there, stretched among the glittering limbs, was the ailleacht,

"Fondness to you, great grandmother."

Sarah was bored out of her mind. She had exhausted her room of the decorative books gathered on the shelves (which were surprisingly all in english) and had paced the floor until she was almost sure her her feet would fall off, but the ache of them did little to ease her nerves. So much for th calming effects of pacing...she strode o the window, her pale brow furrowing in thought. Lenam had been gone three days, but already she felt her absence keenly.

Though she as Jareth's sister, the wild haired girl had been her sole friend in the castle, as she had soon learned that Hoggle wouldn't come near it. Didymus couldn't, bound as he was to that wretched bog, and Ludo well...she didn't know where to look.

She pursed her lips, resolving to get out of this room before she went nuts. It was an old habit of hers to explore...one that frequently got her into trouble. But seeing as she had survived the labyrinth once (barely), the castle couldn't be that much worse. Right?

_Okay, so I really don't want to think about that too much..._she tried to block the thought. Turning toward the door, she took in a breath and turned the knob, having to push against its heaviness. It drifted the rest of the way open soundlessly, and she wondered absently if someone had freshly oiled the hinges. She shrugged, stepping into the hallway, looking around. Her hair slid from her shoulders as she lifted her head to look at the great maw of the ceiling, a lattice of heavy beams strewn with glitter. It was strange, how it was both powerful and delicate, with a bizarre kind of loveliness. She blinked as some of the glitter fell to her face, her hand drifting up to catch some in her palm. It shone violet blue in her hand, and she had the strong urge to keep it on her person. Giving in to the compulsion, she tossed it into her hair. Feeling oddly safer, she walked on past the strange carvings on the hallway walls.

Her steps echoed on the stair, and she bit her lip, her nerves clanging together in alarm. When no one came to accost her, she swallowed her inhibitions and continued climbing. To steady herself, she trailed a hand against the wall, gathering more glitter in swirling designs stamped from the elaborate carvings. She didn't notice when it stayed there, her attention caught instead by the row of doors. No two were alike, an she stepped closer to look at them. One was open, the mahogany wood carved with sloe-eyed nymphs that seemed to move when she cocked her head. Sarah felt compelled toward it, her feet seeming to drift forward of their own accord._ If it's open, it's fair game, right? _Her brain rationalized. But it was probably her curiosity that made her common sense take the back seat.

She stepped into the room, exhaling sharply in relief when the room proved to be empty. Gathering her wits, she looked about the room. It held a desk, a lamp, and many book...all things that suggested it to be a study. It's rose and sage tones also suggested that it had belonged to a woman, a chaise lounge of exquisite make and...enormous size. The whole room was rather strange, but mostly it made Sarah question what she knew. This place didn't seem like somewhere Lenam would retreat to, and neither could she see Barenwyn sitting in the enormous chaise, no matter how tall she was. It didn't make sense but...could there be another non-goblin living here?

Sarah was not slow, and eventually she began to wonder if there had ever been a queen here. A surprising wave of nausea assaulted her at the thought, and she felt a twinge of panic at her reaction. Spinning on her heel, she searched with surprising desperation for a clue as to who the room belonged to. Her darting green eyes finally met a matching pair.

Vibrant green eyes, startlingly lifelike, burned out from a painting on the wall opposite the window. Sarah gasped softly, taken aback by the woman's loveliness. Her whole face sloped upward, high cheeks curving up to almond eyes framed by thick lashes. Ruby hair curled around her face, but twisted in at her her brow was something strange. Leaning closer, her lips parted in surprise to see golden horns spiraling back from her hairline. Sarah's fingers hovered over the brush strokes that shaped the smiling mouth, then the elaborate curls, on closer inspection the color of pomegranates. Stepping back, she took in the whole picture.

Her mouth fell open at the sight of the little boy in the woman's brocaded lap. Unlike the renaissance paintings t resembled, in this the artist had painted the baby as he probably had been—laughing. Sarah dropped to her knees, her throat drying at the prospect that this might be---Jareth's son. She swallowed back a lump in her throat, trying to convince herself that she didn't care, that she should forget it. But her stubborn mind rationalized that she was missing something. Giving in to her unsatisfied curiosity, she leaned in to take another look.

He had an adorable face, full of the guileless charm of babies. His head was topped by a tuft of wild blond hair,fluffy and dandelion-like. But what caught her most was his mismatched blue eyes, and the pendant round his neck. In a flash, she realized that this wasn't Jareth's son at all...it was him. And this woman...must be his mother.

Lenam sank to her knee on the in front of the Ailleacht's tree, but ruined the image by grinning irreverently up at her. Finally, the woman raised her head from her book, a smile tugging at her mouth.

Roughly translated, her title meant 'beauty', for she had once been blindingly so. Now, it was wizening (though mysteriously slower than anyone else), but would never truly be gone so long as she had her eyes. Amethyst and round, they regarded her great granddaughter (who technically wasn't really related...) with unnatural interest and vibrancy in a woman of her age. Her elaborately looped hair bounced together, red and silver threaded, as she leaned closer. She laughed at the earnest grin, the sound like trilling flutes,

"Look at you, my girl. Covered in mud, grinning madly, and beseeching me. My guess is hat you have a scheme." Lenam held her grin, her vastly 'unladylike' boots scraping the glittering rock as she rose.

"Aye, I have one. But it's...complicated" she bit her lip, hoping for the best reaction. Her great grandmother might very well take badly to being involved in such a scheme as this, so it would take some convincing "please, great grandmother..." the elder woman held up a graceful white hand. Lenam grimaced, knowing that the formal statement that was to come was inevitable if she was to get anywhere.

"I Minesemphony, mother of lands east, am asked a favor. Tell me, princess of goblins, to whom does this favor go?" Lenam winced. Curse words ran through her head as she fumbled for an answer.

"None but me, Ailleacht."  
"Ah,so close to lying, as before, as always. So I ask plainly: whom does this favor benefit?" She was amused, but Lenam knew it would fade if he tried to pixie out of it. Her teeth snapped together as she thought what to do, a habit that annoyed Jareth to no end. Sighing, she realized that the time for verbal tap dancing was over.

"For Jareth, I come to you."  
"Och, for the arrogant king, you come. You should think twice for yourself before you do so once for him."  
"Cruel, for you to say so-"  
"Perhaps, but-- I wish he worried half so much for you--"

"You know not his mind!" the last as hissed, as if it spurted from a cat, so vehement that her body shuddered with the action. Minesemphony quieted, transfixed at the fire in her great granddaughter. Lenam stared back defiantly at her, her teeth clacking together again behind her tightly closed lips. It was the elder who cracked the silence first, heaving a great sigh.

"What favor?" Lenam smirked, seizing her nerve.

"The champion of the Labyrinth has returned." Lenam watched Minesemphony's expression lighten, her violet eyes sparking once more.

"Ah, Sarah returns? To what purpose?"

"To love. It was for this I brought her here."

"So that you won't be queen."

"Well...yes?" this response earned her a frown, as it was a scheme she'd pitched before. Lenam chewed her lip.

"You don't want the privilege?"

"I don't want the burden." they were at an impasse. Minesemphony believed that the girl she raised until her first moon cycle could be a grand queen. The girl herself didn't want to be fettered by the chains of the throne. It was a thing that her want to squirm in discomfort. Either she would have to marry to make heirs, or choose another higher fey to lay the curse of the goblin throne upon. So it was only natural in her mind that she should avoid the choice altogether.

The Ailleacht sighed, and Lenam knew this battle was almost won.

"If you are only playing matchmaker, then what do you need me for?"

"To make her as one of us, else I'd be queen nevertheless."  
"Oh fie!" she smacked a hand to the tree she lounged in with surprising force, causing it to shudder, offended. Lenam flinched, but stood firm, watching Minesemphony sooth the tree. A few minutes passed before her violet eyes flashed back to her dark ones.

"There is a way." Lenam grinned, but the Ailleacht held up a hand once again. "but it will be dangerous." Lenam laughed.

"Pardon my english but...bring it on."

Jareth murmured softly, running his fingers through endless hair. The horse whickered at the attention, nuzzling his bare hand. His gloves were forgotten in his pocket, as were most things about his appearance. Here, in the stable, there was no one to particularly care about any airs he would don, so there was little point.

Turning at th rustle of hay, he gave a rigid smile to the Horsemaster, Barthael Jai. The great male bowed at the waist, bringing him to about his kings standing height. He stood again, his ears flicking as he did so. He looked down his great muzzle at him, giving his closest replica of the smile he had received.

"Good evening,my lord."

"Good evening Barthael. Remind me again why you are not a warrior of mine?" Barthael gave a rumbling laugh, and it was an interesting sight to see it coming from a canine mouth.

The child of a phooka and a gentry woman, Jareth wasn't precisely sure where he had come from, or which court might have been his birthplace. Regardless of his origin, Jareth kept him for his (bizarre) way with animals. It was necessary to have such a man to care for the horses and...other rideable things...as much of them were of foul temper. They were mostly all inherited, but regrettably indisposable. And for this reason, so was Barthael.

Surprisingly, it had been his sister that had found him. She had found him in the Labyrinth, almost to the point of solving it. She had thought him impressive, and had told him that one who had 'the wise years of mountains' should have a home, and promised one. He swore loyalty to her as soon as the words had parted from her lips, like a knight, a lord.

Jareth had been angry at first, irritated with her presumption. But now he couldn't fault her logic. Turning his eyes to the sky through the stable door, he saw the day was ending, the moon rising fat in her net of stars. He sighed, looking back to Barthael, who was feeding a gryphon a hank of hare meat.

"Would you lay down in the stable tonight, horsemaster?"

"Aye, majesty."

"To what purpose? You've a decent bed near in the cottage."

"I await the princess, majesty. She expected to be back this night, born home on the gally-trot." Jareth raised at that, at her choice of ride. A 'ghost dog' large as a horse. That, to him, reeked of an omen.

"Truly? So ominous a creature?"

"Aye,my lord. She seems to have a way with such things."

"I have noticed..." Barthael raised his head from feeding a kelpie at that, never a wise thing to do. His gold eyes bored into the king, curious of his meaning. These were unsteady grounds for conversation, but Jareth perhaps enjoyed it all the more for it. He hid a gleeful smile, linking behind his back. Barthael's mouth snapped shut, a motion that reminded him endlessly of his sister, then turned back around, seizing a pitchfork. He stabbed it (with perhaps unnecessary force) into gleaming fresh hay to feed the unicorns, giving them also rowan berries to placate them. One of his secrets, apparently

"Do you feel something she favors will harm her?"

"Nay Horsemaster, I feel that her charm of them might lead them to pain."

"Pardon? What pain, my lord?" Jareth sighed, hoping that his concern was unfounded. He re-donned his gloves, quirking a smile.

"You are no knight, Barthael. See that you do not hang your heart on your lady as so many of them do." he turned then and left, leaving Barthael staring at his back. What he knew about his last warning however, was that it was probably too late.

Sarah whipped around to the west wall. It held the window, and a grand bookcase. Her green eyes widened at the sight of the enormous piece of furniture, twice her height at least. Perhaps more impressive than even the sheer multitude of the books was the nature of the books themselves-- for they were all hand-bound and titled with exquisite detail. As she studied them, she was able to discern that the titles were in fact numbers, dates. They were journals. There had to be a clue in one of them.

Seizing several of them, she studied the dates, her adrenaline rushed breath the only sound in the room. She had taken them from the bottom shelf, thinking that perhaps those would be the most recent. Her brow creased in confusion as she read the dates. They were from five hundred years ago. She looked at the shelf again, trailing her finger along the spines, but there were no ones later than the two in her hands. She put them back in their slots, pulling a face at the dust that caked on her hands from the shelf. She wiped it on her jeans, resolving to change after this. She looked again at the shelf, determined to find the one that would give her some clue about Jareth's past. Why she was so concerned with it was, well...a point of concern, but for now she'd just ignore it.

There were only two that were not covered in thick dust. They were six hundred years apart, as she could tell from the subtext 'Human year: 593'. The other was dated 1193, but they were spaced as if they were twelve years apart. _Why is that?_ She wondered, taking those two and examining the remaining. She noticed quickly that they were all fifty years apart, never less, never more. Was it a tradition? Or did time run so differently here? She didn't know.

They stopped at 1293. She started to wonder why, but the books rustled together in her arms, snapping them into focus. Walking over to the giant chaise, she settled in to read them. Deciding to go in chronological order, she picked year 593 to read first. She cracked it open, careful not to force it too hard.

_February 14, journal #32_

_Today was bitter cold, it was. It hath rained yesternight, and the trees formed crystal_ _casings with the overnight freeze. That has much to do with the story of today, I promise,_

_I took my youngling Jareth to the gardens at his insistence. He informed me it would warm, so out we set._

_He proved to be right, uncanny for one who still keeps his first teeth. But as we went, the sun rose in the sky bright and warm, but conversely the wind rose foul and cold. The treetops clattered together, knocking the ice away in sharp shards. In the rush back to the safety of the castle, one fell and pierced my babe's shoulder._

_To my shock, he did not cry. I would have rather he had, as his mournful face was worse, like arrows to my heart. He looked up and said, just so:_

_'why do the heavens hate me mother?' somehow I knew he didn't refer to the ice, but to our state of affairs._

_His father leaves us frequently as of late. I fear that he takes another when he is away. I wish I could say that it breaks my heart, but I fear __I am not genteel enough to be only saddened. I am angry, as no lady should be, angry for myself, but angrier still for the sake of my young son._

Sarah lowered the journal, her mouth open in shock. Jareth had known his father preferred another home, another family, to theirs. Sarah shared his mother's horror. He'd been so young to know such things, too young.

It seemed to her that Jareth's mother had been a complex woman. What had it been like to know that your husband had grown tired of you, had deserted you and your family?

Sarah found herself wanting to know something more about the woman who had raised Jareth, even if it was just her name. Picking up the other book, she peeled back the cover, hoping that he had written her name on it. She found it, formed in lovely script

_Harrida Leanan_

_formerly of the Trolls, Queen of the goblin court_

Trolls? _Now_ she was curious. She flipped to another page, starting to read.

_June 12, journal # 44_

_I am a fool to write today. But I must to keep my mind, else I will lose it to darkness._

_I visited my grandmother today, in the rank swamp she chooses to live in. she had called me there with reason, though nothing could prepare me for her news._

_I left Jareth to his own devices, as he is old enough. He is so nearly a man, my boy. I thank the gods for that, that he is almost strong enough in body and magick to fend against even the strongest foe. Even against his father. But I'll continue._

_I had thought that my grandmother had wanted to talk about his eventual marriage. She, with her sight might know where to find his mate, his equal. But when I got there, she was leaning over a little blond girl._

_I could see why. She was crying silently, a surprise when her face was split open across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. I looked around at the thorny bushes, but none of them could have caused such devastation to her moon pale face. But what caught me was the unease I felt at the sight of her, as if she was a terrible omen. I will dictate the following conversation with my grandmother, for it weighs upon my mind. I spoke first:_

"_what fair child is this, grandmother?"_

"_your husband's. I pray you forgive the truth."_

"_nay, not his, for she is not mine."_

"_I never said she was."_

_I remember at this point being unshocked, but without that needed shell I felt all the pain. The child looked at me then, and gods protect me, but she looked so much like Jareth, but for the eyes. I snapped my eyes shut, but it was too late. My grandmother spoke:_

"_my lovely girl, I know this pains you. But this child is he effect of your husband's treachery, not the cause. I have seen her fate if you keep her...the reason you believed you were called will benefit from her presence. But this is only one example, my girl. She will defend what you love. It is her destiny."_

_I found all of this hard to believe, but still I took the girl. Lenamara, as she is called, is in a room aways from mine. Jareth keeps inquiring who she is, but I still do not have an answer. But her fortune depends on me, and I can not muster the spite to spurn her._

Sarah snapped the book shut, outraged for the sake of a woman she had never met. What kind of grandmother would ask for such sacrifice? What did all it mean? And how could she, Harrida, be expected to do what was asked? I hardly seemed fair.

At that thought,she almost slapped herself. What had the Labyrinth taught her? That life wasn't fair. It wasn't kind, or fair, or gentle.

It was something that queen Harrida had seemed to know instinctively, but that she had never really accepted it. She had been a woman of frankness, and it seemed she had wanted the world to be just the same. What had instilled this instinct in her? She would have to know more.

Her mind wandered back to the subject of Lenam. How old had she been, to be left there in a swamp with a strange woman? And what had caused that hick scar, when she had seemed so indestructible? All these questions, about numerous subjects, would be easier answered from the horse's mouth .

The problem was, there were two proverbial horses. One she could approach, but she would have to wait until she returned. The other she feared and admired, the way hare might think the fox is handsome. But what would that make her, to see herself as prey? Prey, of course.

Gritting her teeth, she decided she wouldn't play that part. She would not be that rabbit. Tonight,

she would face Jareth. Tonight, she would be the vixen.

Barthael stood at the stable door, his canine snout lifted to the wind. His lady was close, he knew, for the air carried the scent of wild rue and cloves. He sighed at the pleasantness of it the different flavors seeming to bring her along with them.

He was a fool in his affection for her, he knew. The king had warned him not to fall so far, but they both knew that the warning came far too late. Jareth worried that his sister would hurt him, as his home court had done. But Barthael trusted, as his father had trusted, his lady. It seemed he could do nothing else, as his attachment was unshakable.

His loyalty, as he saw it, was with good reason. She had given him a home again, faced her brother when she was only at the first blush of womanhood. She had been under half his height, but still twice as fierce. Jareth had eventually surrendered, thrown up his hands elegantly, and called her her mother, and retreated. She had yelled her gratitude for the compliment after him, and turned to give the wildest grin he'd ever seen on a humanoid face. He'd felt as if Eros had skipped the bow and just stabbed him in the chest with a beautiful arrow.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remind himself that he was on dangerous ground. She was royalty, only second in line to the crown. Her parentage meant little when Jareth held her so close. He, on the other hand, had only her to defend him, and he was little more than her guard, and possibly friend. He was glad only to have her trust, as she didn't do that lightly.

He stiffened, startled from his thoughts by a sound, soft but growing. With a wry smile, he realized it was Lenam singing loudly. Soon she came into sight, her body jolting with the gally-trot's jerky steps. Her voice hiccuped as she bounced, but it was still lovely to him.

"fair hollow where lady lies,

mine won't go, away she shies,

but merry, merry, on I trot,

for in ghost's heart I have a spot."

she finished, laughing, the horse-sized dog giving a moan-like howl to finish. It's jaws parted in a very threatening version of the canine smile as she ruffled his enormous ears, black tongue lolling out. Barthael shook his head at her, amazed at her charm. The beast was won, just as he had been.

He went to help her dismount, offering his paw like hand. To his shock, she skipped his hand and pitched herself off her mount, throwing her arms around his neck. A moment passed where he was frozen. _Breathe. Come on, breathe._

He held her to his chest to keep her from falling, his grin spreading in the presence of her joy. She was laughing, so raucously that it shook from her thin frame into his broad chest. With each wave he felt her warmth, like the tide.

"Oh BJ! My scheme! It will work! I'm free!" her name for him passed without comment, but the last part caused his brow to raise.

"Free m'lady? From what?"

"From being queen!" his pulse leaped, but he mentally slapped himself. He was only leaping to conclusions—but at least, he knew, if she wasn't queen, he could be near her. He started to ask why she wanted to be free, but stopped when he examined her thoroughly.

She was caked in mud from her unladylike boots to her poorly disguised hips, and her shirt untucked and tattered like a ghost round her torso. Had she not looked so tired, he might have said she had gone to ground, to meditation. He lowered her feet to the ground, but decided against letting go when she swayed in his arms. Her dark eyes were flashing multiple colors, far too fast to see. She was spent, he guessed, even her magic.

His worry gnawing at him, he guided her back to the stables, her mount not far behind.

"Ever the gentleman, my friend."

"Some would argue I'm not man at all, lady."

"Oh aye, those that have no room to talk!" she laughed, accepting his help in sitting on a hay bale. His heart warmed at her words, and he took to putting her mount I it's enclosure to distract his mind. She was quiet as he did so, and he wondered what could occupy her mind so thoroughly as to keep it still.

"Barthael--" he turned at his name, so rarely used in full by her, and never so softly spoken. As he did so, a kelpie bit his forearm to gain his attention. Before he could even express the pain, his bleeding arm was in Lenam's grip.

Shocked, he looked down at grip, and drew a breath at the sight of a spiral cut on her hand, at the crook between her thumb and index finger. Her blood mixed with his, flowing faster as she stretched the skin in her hold on his arm.

"My lady, your hand--"

"Aye, to a purpose. With it I do swear a blood debt."

"No."

"Yes, I must."

"No, you've no reason to--"

"Please!" she tugged him closer by his arm, the force of it belying her slightness. He stared at her face, which was in an expression of pleading.

What could bring on this desperation in her? His lady was no beggar, and usually took what she wanted. Though now, as he looked at her, he had to admit that she was rather good at both.

Her face was upturned, and a crack in the beams illuminated her eyes, which were changing colors. They were slower now, and he could discern three colors. Two shades of blue, one cold and one electric, and a green he had seen before. They were like a light show in the moonlight, underscored by her scar, painted silver against the blush of her skin.

"Princess...your eyes?"

"Do you accept the debt?"

"Neither do I, you'll find. Barthael, Jareth has offered me knights--"

"My lady, I am no--"

"But you--" she took his face in her hands, and his heart was suddenly in his ears. She moved to her knees, a vulnerable smile on her face. It was so close to his. "you are mine. I mean you are--"

"I think I understand, my lady." at least, he thought he did. His voice was strained with nerves, but at his words, her face slacked with relief. She swayed forward precariously, and he caught her, his breath catching.

Carrying her back to her room, which was found by way of her sleepy directions, he wondered why she would make him her knight. She had never taken a guard, claiming that it wasn't necessary. Why had she changed her mind? There had to be something.

But now, as she hung like a doll in his arms, he switched to other wonderings, when she might answer.

"Princess?"

"Hmm?"

"Your eyes before...that's not an effect I've seen"

"Oh...yes. Two blues, and a green?"

"Aye."

"The Eye of the Beholder." she smiled foggily, her eyes drifting shut for a moment. When she opened them again, they were electric blue. "Those particular three eyes belong to the ones who saw me to womanhood. These were my blood mother's."

"How did you gain this ability?" she didn't answer this time, her small hand fisting in his shirt

"Perhaps I'll tell you someday. But it is no gift. There are times when my eyes are not mine." she blinked again, and her eyes were dark. He smiled.

"So in a sense, you need my eyes." she laughed at this as he stepped into her room, setting her onto her bed.

"Aye, be my eyes then. But I give you this to keep you close. Because I trust you." her eyes fixed on him, and his breath caught. "with my life." his heart squeezed, and he forced away from the bed, from her pretty smiling mouth.

"I would have found a way to stay close, my lady. You needn't give me a place honor."

"It was my decision. And you're the only one I trust to be my guard."

"Aye. But I would have done so regardless. You needn't give me anything." But he did want something of hers. He would never ask it of her, but he wanted it, deep in his soul.

Walking out of her room, he subconsciously wished someday to have it. Her love.

Her heart.

Sarah tried to calm her fluttering heart as she made her way back to the room. Slamming the door, she leaned heavily against it. This thing, this confrontation that she planned both thrilled and terrified her. She had come here to change, to put on the only armor she had: her beauty. It was a ridiculous compulsion, but not a novel one.

After she had regained Toby, it was then that she felt grown enough to date, as Karen had suggested. The first one had been a similar to this, though not with the thrumming thrill underlying the sick nervousness. Karen had helped her put on perfect makeup, coif her hair, and tuck her into a slim black dress. As it all happened, she had been struck how it reminded her of a knight preparing for war. Ever after, she had called the coat of polish and silk added to herself "woman's armor". Karen had laughed at the folly, but her father had thought it an apt description.

Jareth was an adversary that deserved such preparation, though she thought that it might not be enough. Looking down at her shabby clothes, made so by dust and a sense of outstanding modern quality which didn't fit her surroundings. And they really didn't fit.

She looked at her room again, both to admire and to look for an armoire. Her whole room was a realm of night, tiny pinpricks of light in the ceiling resembling stars, a large soft light above the canopy of her bed like the moon. The armoire, she found as she moved toward it, continued the theme, as well as being a silent reminder of where she was.

It was a giant owl, exquisitely carved in silvery birch. She frowned at it, unsure of how she felt about it. She was also unsure of how to open it. She reached toward it, her hand looking much like the wood in the dim light. The beak turned out to be the handle, and it opened at the middle. The doors were carved inside as well, so the open doors looked like gently spread wings. It was a real piece of work, and she had to wonder who made it.

At the sight of the contents, her mind shifted back to arming herself. The clothes were neatly divided in half. On one side, there were modern clothes, bohemian style and full of color. She imagined that Lenam had provided these, as they looked as though designed for a thinner frame. The other side paled the modern clothes by a mile. They shined in the star-like light, swaying like smoke at the slightest motion. They were all lovely, but one struck her with it's beauty, as well as the bold design. It had a silver overlay, but it was not so much a solid layer as many silver spirals, linked together as one body. It was beautiful, but too much so for a meeting like this, so she resisted the urge to don it immediately.

But that was the question, wasn't it? Should she wear armor fro the modern side, or the other? It was like someone had wanted her to choose—what was familiar, or something strange and beautiful. Somehow, the unfamiliar seemed the correct choice. It was because, she reasoned, that he would be in similar "armor". And weren't you supposed to battle on even ground?

Deciding on something relatively middle ground, she shed her kidskin boots, shirt and pants, and chose one of the neutral colored dresses. This one was dove gray, neutral only by a margin, as it was silk. It was somewhat demure, with gray pearls in an ornate pattern at the high neck, and sheer sleeves. It took some figuring to get it on, but she sighed when it finally slid down her skin, soothing her nerves somewhat. Slipping into slippers that matched, she faced the door, her first obstacle.

Taking a steeling breath, she moved to it, pushing it open into the hallway, a bit startled by her hissing breath in the cavernous space. Vaguely, she had to wonder where everyone was-- goblins, servants? It was eerie. But the further she got, the more often she'd hear other sounds. Once, then many more ties, she saw goblins bustling about. A goblin woman, bent and toothy (and also carrying a ridiculously large mop...) turned to grin at her. As she was lost, she seized this chance.

"Excuse me...can you point me towards the king?"

"Oh, the king? Ye must be Sarah then."

"Why, yes. Did he tell you...?"

"Oh, nay. The seamstress said you'd come t'day."

"The seamstress?"

"Aye, mistress Barenwyn. Better with silk than spiders be, miss. Now, ye come w' me pretty miss. I'll see ye there." Sarah followed, curious about Barenwyn. When she had seen the woman last, she'd been quiet and disinterested. It was hard to picture the cold woman creating gowns. Had she been the one to create the dresses in her armoire?

She stopped wondering about it, however, when she discovered they had stopped. She swallowed, looking up at the most ornate, large, and ostentatious pair of doors she had ever seen. Bingo.

Two guards were at the door, a fact which called her feet to a halt. The gobliness hobbled on down the hall, apparently eager to do so. Sarah didn't blame her, but the guards didn't seem inclined to deny her. The were grinning like boobs at her, and she had a feeling that they too had been informed of her predicted appearance. Arms akimbo, she tilted her chin at them.

"Well?" they blinked, then looked to each other. The taller shrugged, and raised his staff to the door. He knocked twelve times in fast succession, then paused. Twelve seconds passed in oppressive silence, so deep that she started when he knocked again. A complete thirteen. Figured.

The door swung outward---fortress doors, she noted—and she moved just to the threshold, raising her eyes to Jareth. He sat perfectly still now, his eyes fixed on her, but two women sitting around him suggested he had been talking moments before. He looked her up and down a moment before he turned to the two.

"Ladies, I apologize, but it grows late. If we could continue this in the morning?" the older woman looked shocked, but the younger put a hand to her companion's shoulder. She then looked to Sarah, her golden braids, eyes and lashes making her look somewhat like a statue. Sarah flushed as the woman stared , and the woman spoke without looking back to Jareth.

"Alas, I do believe we must take our leave in the morn." she turned to Jareth as she rose. Her voice was intimate in the next phrase, making Sarah grimace. "I trust I'll see you soon." she offered her arm to her chaperon, who rose to take it. They swept by Sarah, two identical sets of golden eyes boring into her. Mother and Daughter, terror and temptress.

With a jolt, Sarah realized that they must have been husband hunting. Flushing, she forced herself to stare back at Jareth.

"My, Sarah, you do look lovely. Please, do come closer and tell me—do you plan on putting me in a golden cage also? Or is yours perhaps iron?" he gestured at her dark hair. It was a double entendre, but she let it pass, protesting.

" No, I--"

"You what?"

"I wanted to--"

"Wanted? Are you certain you mean it?"

"Would you let me finish?!" She stamped her foot on the marble floor, then bit her lip as her foot throbbed. She forced her chin up, meeting his eyes.

His eyes were lit with mischief, and he looked as though he was trying not to laugh. Sarah bristled at that, but he spoke before she could snap back.

"Very well Sarah, what is it you wanted?" she bit her lip, looking down at the swirl of glitter that remained on her hand.

"I want to understand."

"Pardon?"

"I want to understand...you. Your mind." he stared at her, his mismatched eyes reevaluating her. He was surprised by that revelation, as was she. But she waited for his reaction, so that she could form one of her own.

"Ask your first question then, Sarah. You've something specific to ask."

"Yes...I do. What was your mother like?" He looked to her, raising his brows. To her surprise, he smiled, as if struck by nostalgia.

"You read her journals-"

"I- I'm sorry-"

"Worry not Sarah. My mother would not have minded. She wasn't like any other woman you're likely to have met."

"How so?" He circled her now, as if analyzing every part of her. She struggled not to squirm under his gaze.

"She—wasn't raised to be queen. Truly, I don't think her parents expected that she ever would be." he laughed, startling her. "Her mother was particularly appalled when she married the goblin king—and also horrified."

"Why?"

"Why what, Sarah?"

"Why were they horrified?" He stopped circling, turning to face her. He reached out before she could protest and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The tip of his gloved finger brushed the skin behind her ear as he did so, and he cocked his head when she shivered. When he answered again, his voice was low, less cultured.

"Because, dear Sarah, they –or rather only her mother—believe that the post of goblin king was low indeed. After all, the first one had been cursed with the duty for his treachery."

"And her father? Was he angry too?"

"Ah, no. Grandfather Nareth—was rather more irritated she chose my father. Prejudice isn't in a troll's nature."

"Ah, a troll. That explains a lot." Her mind listed off the upside down tree, and his mother's title, and her...horns. Jareth smiled.

"You saw her picture. Grandfather painted it. As a result of his hand, my mother grew up unprejudiced and fierce. And-- forgiving." He looked at her, and suddenly felt like he was looking into her. She saw memories in his eyes, times that meant something, that could help her understand this enigma of a man. As much as it scared her, she wanted to understand. She stepped unconsciously closer, but a warning hand on her arm startled her back into reality.

"You ruined me once, Sarah."

"That wasn't my intention. I just wanted my brother home."

"Ah, but you said differently. You have to understand, Sarah, that lying is a human habit. We of the underground, goblin and fey, are forbidden to directly lie. It never occurred to me that you might lie about what you wanted of me." Sarah stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribcage. He looked as if he regretted opening so much, but she was snared by his vulnerability.

Had he really been so naïve? His logic at the time had seemed to swing in his favor. But had that been true? Or had he just been trying to see her as one of his kind?

"What I wanted? Of you?" She tried to slow her breathing. It was like he was giving her something better to breathe than air, and she was gulping it. "All I wanted was for you to be real. And you were real. You _are real._" his eyes bored into her, searching for other words. And they were indeed there, echoes of impressions he had made when she first met him.

He had been both terrifyingly real and wonderfully, beautifully unreal. Now, as he stood so close to her, he was pressingly real. His scent, that substance she was breathing in gulps, was like cedar and autumn leaves. It enveloped her, like he was already touching her. Slowly, that thought led to other things in her traitorous mind. She began to wonder if his mouth tasted the same, how it would feel to have those sharp teeth scraping her neck. With startling focus, she realized that she had swayed closer to him. His hands were at this waist, steadying her.

"What-?" she met his eyes, and the rest of the question died in her throat in the face of the desire she saw there.

"Does it matter what _I_ want, dear Sarah?"

"It does. But I don't think I can indulge you as you did me."

"Oh can't you?" his hands slid up her back, the silk hissing under the contact of his gloves. She shivered again, her hands bracing against his chest. "I believe you can." his voice seemed to simmer in the air above her mouth. Her lips parted at the sensation, and a low rumble sounded, low in his throat, sliding up to form words of the same tone. "come, Sarah, indulge me." and with that, his lips descended upon hers.

This was the kiss to erase all others, an almost crushing slow burn. As she had expected, he tasted more wonderful than he smelled, like he just eaten a pomegranate. As his lips slid over hers, she had to wonder if he was trying to impress the pleasure of it into her mind. It was working. She reveled in it, delighted in his wicked tongue. She tried to remember to breathe as he plied into her mouth,stoking the fire in her to near inferno.

She didn't know how long they lingered, but when he broke the kiss, she gasped. She hung, clinging to his shoulders, taut as a bowstring, curved like a bow. Jareth held her up, his eyes wild. He looked much as she felt.

"Oh—was I interrupting something?" the words were highly cultured, high and chime-like. They both turned to look at the blond woman, both jolted by her sudden appearance. Jareth's surprise fast turned into irritation. He scowled at the guards, who shrugged, and set Sarah solidly on the ground. He kept an arm around her waist, turning his scowl on the lovely woman. She stepped forward, and Sarah saw that her hair was threaded with white.

Well--- so glad to see you, Grandmother. Has it been a good seven hundred and fifty seven years?" She gave him an identical scowl, and Sarah had to guess that this was the woman who deemed the goblin throne a curse.

**Oh and, the foreign stuff...it's Gaelic. In my story, this used to be the only language Jareth and Lenam had in common.**

**Translations:**

_**dearthair-brother**_

_**deirfiur- sister**_

_**áilleacht- the beauty. **_

_**a/n: check my profile for a link to see Barthael and Lenam when she swears the blood debt.**_


	12. Teller,Teller

disclaimer: no. I don't own it

rating: T for now...

note: eh...heh ' very sorry I took so long. My muse has ADHD and can't let me focus, dangit.

Play the Game

Sarah worried a piece of grass in her hands, her green eyes far away. Lenam sat sketching, her body sprawled in the verdant grass. Sarah refocused on her, sliding out of the peach tree to snoop. She looked over her friends shoulder, studying the canine face in the depiction. Somehow, she knew it wasn't a dog. Lenam caught her looking, scowling slightly then grinning.

"you could have asked to see--" Sarah blushed, flopping into the grass beside her.  
"who is he?" Lenam's expression softened, and her slim fingers brushed the drawing.

"Barthael." Sarah quirked a brow, curious.  
"but who is he? To you?" Lenam blinked, then blushed, her teeth clacking together. Sarah grinned, but Lenam shook her head.  
"He's my friend. Soon to be my knight."  
"your knight? Why do you need another?"  
"not another---I need one. I never had one. And I trust him..." Sarah nodded, looking at the drawing. He had a trustworthy face at least, she thought. Well...at least in the depiction he did. When she looked back at Lenam, she found herself being stared at.  
"you reek of another secret. Please, tell." Sarah shifted uncomfortably, her face turning red. Seeing no reason to lie, she let the words spill from her mouth.  
"I kissed your brother." Lenam fell backwards, cackling gleefully, and Sarah glared at her friend half-heartedly. She was rolling like a kitten, delighted, and Sarah wasn't sure if she resented it or if she should be hopeful. Lenam sat back up, grinning.

"and did you like it?"  
"oh shut up!"  
"you LOVED it!" she shrieked in glee, and Sarah found herself giggling, like an idiot school girl. They laughed for what seemed like ages, until they were both sucking in breath. Lenam was the fist to recover, her tone joyful.

"there's something else, isn't there?" Sarah inhaled, biting her lip. Lenam dimmed slightly, as if bracing herself.

"well uh---we were interrupted—by his grandmother." Lenam paled, and she muttered very unflattering things under her breath. She turned to Sarah, her eyes hard as onyx.  
"be prepared Sarah. She'll be planning to manipulate us---you into danger, me into humiliation."  
"how?"  
" One of the most deceptively dangerous things we do underground. A ball, of course. "

Jareth was currently stuck, or so it seemed, entertaining his demanding grandmother. He was distantly aware of her prattling, but he was understandably distracted, Sarah's kiss still in the forefront of his mind.  
His nimble mind successfully drowned out her prying, filling with a vision of the tense Sarah he'd held before. She'd been so lovely there, her dark hair gleaming, her eyes softened by passion. Those eyes of hers—when he'd kissed her, they'd ceased to hold cruelty, or fear, or any kind of contempt. She'd become the creature he'd desired, still defiant to a fault, but pliant and passionate in his embrace. Yes...he wanted this new Sarah...but not as a passing notion.

In a way, her new passion for him terrified him. He'd known on some level that he loved her...but never had he sought to guess just how much. The way she responded was almost like the strike of the match, and she the gasoline, and further still, he the kindling. Had so lit up more, he just might have been consumed.

Presently however, a very different woman glared at him.

"you haven't listened to me at all, have you Jareth?"  
"pardon me, Grandmother...I had other things on my mind." She flushed, apparently irritated at his arrogance. She adjusted golden skirts, like a bird preening.

"really Jareth--just like your mother. Didn't your father teach you anything?" Jareth scowled, and she lifted her chin unsteadily, trying and failing for defiance.  
"nothing of worth I assure you-where is grandfather?"  
"I hardly see as that matters. Come now, I want to---"  
"you will find-" his voice was smooth, but cracked like ice at the edges. " that what matters here, is directly connected to what I wish to know." The lady Helena glared at her grandson. She set her teeth, and at that moment looked very much as his mother had. He choked down his searing words, pausing to let her speak.  
"All I want is a little Ball, Jareth. I hardly ever get to do anything interesting-" Her eyes glimmered, ad he knew she was up to something... "Please?" Jareth heaved a sigh, jerking his eyes from her face.

"very well--"  
"Good. He's in the orchard." Jareth nodded, relieved, and took his leave, Helena casting a speculative look at his back.

"oh yes—interesting-" her pretty mouth curled into a wicked smile, full of unholy glee.


	13. Play the Game

A/N: egad, you must hate me! But I must say, you will soon love me again, my readers, if you still attend my tale. Because my high school career is over, and my nights are free. Isn't that great?! So, I will try to get us heading toward my very predictable conclusion (or not so, you decide...) in that time.

ps: I made it extra long! yay!

recap:

_"the book- that Sarah built her fancy upon...it all came true. How was that possible?" Nareth gave him a enigmatic smile, his long fingers steepling. _

_"the most powerful magic, Jareth, is the kind bound to something of your own making. The dearer to you it becomes, the more sway it has over kindred spirits. You will know soon who was the creator of your fairytale..but I am not the teller of this one."_

Play the Game

Jareth, in preparation fr the ball had distanced himself from Sarah. It pained him to do so, which pained him more still for his realization that her presence had become so very necessary. What with her so very near and Lenam's master scheme to make her his true queen, his heart was ever perched on a very dangerous promontory.

Very carefully, he forced his thoughts onto his previous discussion with his grandfather. Was marriage to be recorded in that little red book? Nareth had made it seem that the book was almost a spell in itself. Was someone still controlling him through ink on a page? Who, more importantly, would have both the power and inclination.

And yet whispers of possibility did present themselves. His mother had been a storyteller, joyfully recording her own life and fabricating others. Some had been written for him when he was small, he remembered. He had been alternately the valiant hero and the master magician, but never both, and there was always a girl. He had thought they were prophecies then, magic lacing their edges to make them come to pass. But none of them had been so...his life was heroism free, and under no circumstances had he been the savior of any girl. So why should this one epics, not even based on her son who she knew so well, prove different?

No, this was only a feeble lead, he found. Even if it hadn't been, to whom could he turn to ask? His mother, fierce , lovely and quick of mind, was lost to him, gone.

He felt a twist in his heart at that revelation. With that lost love of his mother, a rush of hate for his father rose to physical shape in his throat, roiling out to form a snarl. How many times had he been told when she was gone to stop his mourning? His father had set his teeth, holding information behind their vicious bite. It was cruelty of the worst kind, keeping a child from his mother. And then, before Jareth could build the courage to overthrow his tyrant sire, he was dead. And then, he had ceased in a matter of moments to be prince, to have a life of comfort. He had become a king overnight, protector of his maid sister and his teetering court of goblins and oddlings. Years of maturing were not to be had.

Most of the gentry blamed his spoiled and haughty nature on the mysterious death of the king. But it would have been the same result had he lived, if not worse. His father, embittered by the loss of his glittering throng of lovely female admirers in exchange for the hideous peons of his inherited throne, would not have been a guiding force. Naturally, he had not been close to such a wretched man. But his behavior after his mother's death sealed his hatred firm into his fickle heart. He had spewed lies endlessly, calling her faithless, upsetting Lenam into fits of hysteria. As he had come to adore his false sister, this deeply disturbed him.

Then, after he had said the most unforgivable things, Lenam had become so disturbed as to seize, startling him as she writhed as one possessed.

And then, no more.

The king had died, of uncertain causes, in his own throne. Lenam had been hysterical, and Jareth could find no reason for this. For him, there was only relief and trepidation. It was a tangled puzzle, the kind he had no patience for, hence his utter cheating when it came to the Labyrinth.

His reverie was cut short by the short rap of his sister's annoyed knock. With a small smirk, he puzzled over how he knew her so well.

"Enter-"  
"Brother-"  
"Grandson-" They spoke almost in sync, giving each other annoyed looks at this. Know he knew exactly what the reason was for the tenor of her knock. He plucked at the midnight blue waistcoat he wore, to hide his rolling eyes. Lenam conceded the lead, and Helena pressed her lovely mouth into a disapproving line.

"She will not tell me, no matter how ungrateful it is, who her knight will be." Jareth raised his brow at his sister. So Grandfather Nareth had been right. Lenam held her carefully blank expression, but Jareth wasn't having it.

"You will deny our...dear...grandmother her satisfaction?"  
"I cannot lie, but my privacies are my own. Personally, I think she can wait until he escorts me to the ball tomorrow night." Jareth nodded, but felt slightly like he was solving a spat between two teenage daughters.  
"Very well. Lady Helena, what will satisfy your thirst if you cannot have her secrets?" He had to squash an urge to turn away at the conniving twist of her mouth.

"Vengeance then. I will choose her attire for the ball, and she will follow whatever directions that come with it." with a sharp nod of her silver threaded blond head, she was gone, her gown shushing behind her. Lenam relaxed slightly when the fortress built doors slammed behind her, but her face showed more of nerves. Jareth's demeanor softened almost imperceptibly.

"So...will you tell me then?"  
"You already know, I'm sure."

"I have an inkling, yes." She exhaled in a rush, collapsing into a chaise which plumed glittering tendrils of fresh magic with it's sudden appearance. Jareth conjured a chair in a similar fashion, but sat, rather than whooshing downward. She tossed her blond hair back.

"It's Barthael, of course."  
"Of course." She looked annoyed at his tone. Her teeth clacked together, and he knew her next assault was fast approaching.

"And what, exactly,is wrong with my choice? You knew of my trust in him-"

"That part doesn't concern me. Providing, of course, that you will let him still be the horseman, occasionally. Or train a new one." He allowed a quicksilver grin, for which he received an incensed look, then returned to his original line. "What concerns me, my sister, is why, other than trust, your reasons for wanting him at your side." He was stricken by the sudden change in her face. She looked very distant, but also impossibly vulnerable. Her eyes fell to her violet dress, then rose back to him.  
"Brother, honestly I say that I don't know how I feel."  
"I was afraid of that."

Personally, Sarah was half mad with the stress of ball preparation. Every time she turned around, Barenwyn would be pulling at her limbs to make sure her dress fit, snapping an odd red string around her waist to the same purpose, or fussing with her hair. Irritated with the latest string of muttering and yanks, she tried distraction.

"Barenwyn?"  
"yes, my lady?" her jeweled eyes rose sharply to hers, and Sarah twitched. The seamstress was unnerving in her intensity, but at least she had stopped prodding.

"um...the king's mother...what ever happened to her?" Barenwyn, in not her usual manner, lowered her eyes. She placed her porcupine needle aside, and stopped the line of silk that flowed freely from somewhere behind her.

"the queen...lady Harrida. Most have no clue about what actually happened. I myself only have a small inkling."  
"Oh. Might I ask why it is you know more?" Barenwyn shifted, looking embarrassed. Sarah felt her eyebrows raise at the turn in her manner.  
"The lady is the entire reason one such as me is allowed here. So naturally, I was close to her. The added factor of my natural talents..." she gestured to her needles, " made me the perfect maid to her."  
"That makes sense. So you two were friends, then?"

"You could say that. So I remember very well the events leading up to her disappearance. Call me foolish, but I am slow to accept what has not been proven, and I will not say she is dead." Sarah nodded, her dark hair bobbing. She would have done the same. Barenwyn smiled weakly. "before she was gone, much of her time was spent writing. The king did not like this, and tried to sabotage her work. One night, she murmured secrets during her fitting for a smaller dress. I had asked why it was smaller, and she had told me so many things. 'watch what enfolds for me...I'll be gone' she said. I asked her why, she wouldn't tell me. But I do know this." She paused, her eyes fixed on Sarah. "she knew you would come, and shake Jareth out of his arrogance." Sarah drew back, worrying her lip in her teeth. "well- I wish she could tell me what I was destined to do next."

Lenam snarled, crumpling the note in her slim hand. _I hope your escort can keep you on your toes, if you get my pointe. _Lenam hissed at the purposeful change in words. It was all elegant, the outfit, the note, but she knew the motive behind it. Her Grandmother wanted her to hang on Barthael, to test how close her heart was to him.

The floor rang as her boot heel smacked the floor. She was being forced, and it rankled her to no end. Her Grandmother...no, Jareth's Grandmother, was simply trying to humiliate her. And Jareth for that matter, because she was his ward and responsibility.

With a rustle of silk, she collapsed onto her bed, her hands cradling her head. This was the very reason she had asked that Jareth knight Barthael. So close to her, and allowed to be so. A small happiness in her life of pleasing others.

Laying back on her bed, she fisted her hand in the fabric above her heart. It beat faster as she broached the subject of it's owner. Did her treacherous heart belong to her, or to her knight? She was ultimately unsure. But even here, alone in her room, she realized she ached for his company. So she could no longer lie to herself about this...that he was a comfort only when surrounded by those who didn't see her as princess, but as a bastard Jareth pitied. But she valued his loyalty less than she valued his adoration and understanding. He knew only too well her habits, her pet peeves, and her loves. She fisted a hand against eye, her back seizing as her sight dimmed. She lurched off her bed, to see in her large mirror just who's eyes were surfacing now. Through a haze, green eyes, sharp as glass and the same shade exactly. She had the urge to gasp, but it didn't leave her throat. Instead, her own lips turned in a what might have been a smile. And then it opened without her permission.

"You are _my _grandchild, not hers. And those of my blood do not fade-" Lenam snapped her eyes shut, reeling away from the mirror. Opening them again, she tried to calm her breath. Her grandmother? She knew for a fact that the woman was dead. So what blood had she been referring to?

As it happened, Barthael was first to be ready for the ball. Newly knighted and more pleased at his fortune than he probably should be, he had dressed an hour before it was to begin. Now, it was still a half an hour yet, but a messenger had summoned him here, before Lenam's door. She hadn't come out yet, but his nerves thanked the gods for it. For the most part, the things that came with being a knight seemed to be rather constrictive. In addition to the mask hiding his muzzle out of necessity, the sword he was given hung at his hip, seeming to be four times as heavy as the proper weight because of it's purpose. And the chest plate which Jareth had said was necessary, though beautiful with it's twisting vines and star like flowers, was a vise on his ribs.

During this last thought was when his lady decided to make her appearance. She stole his breath...her hair was swept away from her face in a sharp looking hairpiece,from her ribs down to the juncture of her thighs and her slim ankles were bound in overlapping vees of linen strips. There was no skirt, but there was a tail of soft transparent fabric, but her wobbling movement drew his eyes back down to her feet. She was on the very tips of her toes, the leveled tips of pointe shoes, snow white like most of her outfit, supported her weight.

"wha-?" she plucked forward, and his words were lost. They were trapped in his throat as her hand glided over his breast plate, tracing the vines, thumbing the small flowers.

"You look absolutely dashing."

"th-thank you, princess..."

"It is 'my lady' for tonight. To demonstrate whose knight you are. Then it's Lenam...I designed this, did you know?" He looked into her dark upturned eyes, and breathed in sharply at the knowledge. It seemed more bearable on his chest now, silly as it seemed.

"I did not know, my lady. But I did think it beautiful, if a bit..."

"Uncomfortable?"  
"your pardon..." she shook her head, amused. Both of her hands braced against the silver, standing on pointe still.  
"It's alright. Protective spells and such." he stared at her, again in the position of not daring to hope. She smiled then, linking her arm through his. She leaned heavily on him, but he didn't mind.

"Now, let's go down. Late is never good." he nodded, and as they approached the stairs, he began to see why she had wanted his support early.

Sarah was starting to develop a serious feeling of deja vu. After all, she could find Jareth nowhere, and the masks were in place, including hers, a silver fox. It seemed they were fond of those masks. Her dress swirled about her, the silver swirls moving like smoke, but still solid. It was a dreamy sky blue under the silver details. But where was Jareth? Had he dressed to match? That might make him easier to spot. Hearing the room hush, and one fluttery thing gasp, she turned to the stairs, hoping it was him. She almost hated herself for the desperation...but it turned out to be his sister instead. Barthael was helping her down the stair, and as they go closer, she saw why. She was in ballet slippers. Sarah raised a brow at this, but from the look on her friends face, it wasn't a willing wardrobe choice. Then a voice was gliding down the ridge of her ear.

"My grandmother's vengeance." Sarah whirled, staring at the goblin king. His coat and cape were like the night sky. Sensible as ever, he had forgone a mask, as it would not hide his airs or hair. She flushed.

"So she has to literally, keep on her toes?" his mouth twisted in a wry smile.

"exactly, dear Sarah."  
"And if she doesn't maintain the pose?" Jareth sighed, shifting to face her, sweeping her into a dance without asking permission. Again, she realized with a start. The peach dream had been the same. It was much closer than that one though, and she flushed as his mouth moved against her ear.

"Dire things will happen. She gave up her comfort to gain her knight without Grandmother's interference. It was brash..." Sarah nodded, leaning into a swirling turn.

"I would have done the same. You too, probably."  
"You are right. I have done it." he drew back to give her a silken smile. "have you noticed that no one has cried 'mortal!' in your direction? You are more like us than you think." Sarah frowned at this.

"But some things you have done I would never-"

"Who is to say what you would have done, Sarah?" his voice was brisk, but not angry. "So bound by rules, I can only pick the best option." Sarah stared at him once again. He was unlike man she had met...actually, she was the first man she had met in that sense. And now, seeing him as he was, realer than anyone had a right to be, she didn't think anyone else could ever do. That concept sent her pulse racing...in both crushing panic and soaring exhilaration. Her instinct had just informed her that it wanted Jareth, the Goblin King, for her mate. 'well,' she thought, trying to slow her breath, 'I suppose mother nature knows best.' she couldn't help but reflect that mother nature had a quirky sense of timing.

Lenam was largely letting Barthael do much of the work at dancing. He didn't mind, and seemed very happy with the situation. She had to keep close in her dancing, and he lifted her sometimes when her toes tired. She caught him at it the third time, raising a brow.

"You don't need to do that, you know..."

"You are my lady. It is my duty to ensure your comfort. Besides..." He swept her in a fluid circle that reminded her more of a predator than a courtier, then continued. "I know that you didn't choose this. So this retribution probably has something to do with me." Her brows went even higher at that. A smile spread slowly across her mouth, and the scar over the bridge over her nose created her unique double smile.

"How fortunate I am to have such a clever knight." He grinned at the praise, for once not having the urge to duck his head in humility. He was so much closer to her now, as her knight. It wasn't exactly approved to love your lady...but he was not ashamed to be in a similar boat to Lancelot. His train of thought was derailed with the appearance of several ladies. Three to be exact. Lenam paused in her dancing, righting Barthael's silver mask as she accidentally swiped it. All three of them bowed, the titian haired one the lowest. Lenam did not miss this, nor did she miss the gleaming golden filigree breast plate over her dress , which was not floor length. A warrior then. Interesting.

"My lady, we wish to inquire with the utmost politeness, as to the identity of your escort." Barthael stiffened slightly, but Lenam simply threaded her arm through his.

"Then a name for a name then, since I don't know any of you." Two of them, one silver headed, the other with hair the color of blueberries, looked astonished at what she asked. The warrior's face did not change.

"Haine, your grace. And should you like my service, I would, if you asked, give you the rest in private."

"Very generous, and very clever. Your manners are very polished." She bowed at the compliment, her loose red hair sweeping the floor. Lenam turned to the other two. "And you two?" They bowed, and the one with blueberry hair, and surprisingly wide eyes murmured her quick reply.

"My lady, with our poor manners, we feel we do not deserve to know, and will not bother you with our names." they were gone in a swirl of silk, but Haine stood firm. Lenam looked to Barthael.

"I am Barthael-"

"He is my knight. My only one as yet." Haine nodded, giving a lovely smile. It turned into a wry one.

"That was my guess. It was very clever, your grace, to ask them to give in turn what they asked of you." Lenam smiled, and Barthael couldn't help but like her for giving his lady such a compliment, and for her straightforward manner. He was content to observe them quietly for now.

"Lady Haine. If it is not rude, I wonder at what your title could be."

"Not rude, no. I was a soldier in the Seelie army, recently discharged for...non-compliance." Lenam nodded, looking to Barthael in signal.

"I would be happy to gain another knight. Please inquire after the ball." she paused as the music became something totally different from the trilling flutes of faery music. "your pardon lady Haine, but the musicians seem to have found my Queen music." Barthael had but a moment to sputter his goodbye as she swept him to the floor.

Sarah laughed as they spiraled through 'Somebody to Love' then had to snicker as he sang Bowie's part on 'Under Pressure' (too ironic to ignore-) and watched Lenam yank Barthael into a amusing jive during 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love' Jareth seemed slightly annoyed as well as amused.

"This is Lenam's doing, I take it?"

"Entirely." She laughed at his expression, and he repressed a smile. His eyes couldn't seem to stop tracing every nuance of her face, his heart could hardly handle it when she laughed, so happy in his arms. He could no longer doubt that it had been love driving him to give her everything. He had been so selfish, asking for her love but not offering the word to her, too full of pride to do so. Would she have stayed then if he had? He could hardly say, when he didn't know her heart now. Now, she tilted her head, and he was unreasonably distracted by how that exposed more of the creamy skin of her throat.

"I don't know this song. Do you, my lord?"  
"I do indeed." he hummed the intro, swiveling her around until her back was against his chest, singing against her ear. She leaned into him, her wand mask drifting down.

_"open up your mind and let me step inside,_

_rest your weary head and let your heart decide,_

_it's so easy,_

_when you know the rules,_

_it's so easy, all you have to do is fall in love,_

_play the game,_

_everybody play the game, of love-" _

_S_he turnedher face to him as he trailed off, boldly capturing his mouth against hers. The response was near to instantaneous, like a wildfire replacing her blood. His was the same, but neither could ignore the silence that fell. Sarah swallowed hard, breaking away reluctantly. Had they been seen? But no one looked their way, but at either of the door on each side of the ballroom. Lenam was rushing over now, hitting the floor hard with the toes of her slippers, Barthael a few heartbeats behind her.

"Jareth, something is-"

She never finished, swallowing her words as both of the doors flew open. One glided, and the other knocked the plaster loose in a spiderweb on the wall. Both Lenam and Jareth made a noise like a slashed tire, and Sarah couldn't stop herself from trying to see both entrants at once. One had hair like the heart of a flame, and gold horns spiraled up and back like a grown crown. The other had a mane as thick and glossy as a panther, and the electric blue of her eyes, visible even from this great distance, took aim on the opposing woman. Sarah felt her breath quicken as her mind snapped the puzzle together, but it was the royal siblings, each facing who they referred to, that named them in the same moment. They had opposite connotation in the word, but it was still the same.

"Mother-?!"

an: dun DUN DUUUUUUUUUN! Next time in what you wanted, _Clash of the Queens!_

ps: if you wish to view artwork from this chapter, please visit my profile for links


	14. White Queen, Black Queen

An: yes, I changed the name. But just...think chess!

White Queen, Black Queen

Sarah felt her eyes darting between both the queens, and both sibling. So far none of them had spoken, and the nearest thing to it that she could hear would be Lenam's harsh breathing. She too was darting glances between the two women. The former Goblin Queen seemed to have no inclination to speak first, but the other grew impatient, hissing through her teeth.

"So it is here I find my child, in a crowd of hedons. And so fitting too, after what she has done!" Lenam paled, and Harrida seemed to change her whim, her voice sliding out in a husky silk.

"She ceased to be _your_ child when you left her with _my grandmother. _You cannot accuse her of something you know nothing about." Jareth ruffled, and Sarah looked to him, slightly disconcerted by the steel she saw in his expression.

"And what is she accused of?" 

"Jareth, this woman is-" 

"_Murder._" the word was a sound like a whip, and the room fell into a breathless silence. Lenam staggered, and Barthael's arm slid around her waist with no second thought, despite the charge. For a moment, she stared into his eyes in wonder, then snapped her own back to her birth mother. Harrida spoke, and Sarah wondered how her voice became so hard.

"and what evidence do you have?"

 "I have seen it." the crowd began to stir at this, and one elder that she suddenly desperately wished would die on the spot, terrible and plausible though it was, spoke in a thin reedy voice.

"the queen of shifting, of the unseelie shifters, has sight of many legends past." Jareth seemed not to know this, judging by the sharp jerk Sarah felt, and before she knew it they were looking at the other queen. Her eyes were like the blue of an l.e.d., manic in their luminescence. She was as beautiful as Harrida was, but in a sharper, more monochromatic way, aside from those eyes. She looked only at Jareth as he turned.

"Is this truth? You have seen my sister kill ?" Sarah darted a look at Lenam, who was as pale as death. She looked desperate to run—Barthael looked ready to facilitate the escape. Harrida's expression was pained and angry.

"Yes. I have seen it exactly." 

"And who?" 

"The former king. Your father." He stiffened, and Sarah parted from him to look at Lenam. She looked pale and fearful, but Barthael offered silent support at her side.

Jareth's countenance was frightening, and Sarah felt herself pull from him, a little affected. He looked stung by this, but refocused on his sister, speaking lowly.

"If this is true, I cannot overlook it--despite my hatred of him."

"I will not be sentenced before you know the whole of it. Especially with the news from the woman who gave me up. For stupid reasons!"

"You heard the man! She speaks truth!" Lenam's face looked betrayed. His trust was so easily swayed. Sarah stepped to her side.

"Jareth-don't do this. Not until you know the whole truth!" Jareth turned eyes to her, looking much as Lenam did. Sarah hated the hurt she saw, but Lenam was her friend. It wasn't unreasonable for her to want Lenam to have some say. Jareth suddenly snarled.

"You do not understand. These people—all around us, will cry for blood. I must do something—as much as I do not wish to-" Lenam snarled back, surprising all of them. Her eyes were bright, and her hair pulled out of it's arrangement. Barthael watched her in amazement, and gasped when she grabbed Sarah and him and took to the air.

"Then I will lead you away from them, brother. You want to know the truth? Then accept the challenge you have given every human. Follow us to another Labyrinth, one that will take you to the truth!" she streaked out then, Sarah gasping and squealing as they flew.

Jareth stared upward, his heart in his throat. He would have to take the challenge, if only to reclaim Sarah. He declared this much to his people, and they roared their approval. Challenges, hunts, all of these things were all devices invented to break the monotony of virtual immortality, and they were time honored. His people would watch in mirrors and lakes and crystals, aching for drama.

He, himself, wanted knowledge. How could his sister murder anyone? What secret could make her do so? He turned, looking from queen to queen. The black queen, he knew, was Nikeri. She had been his father's mistress, and was quite insane after his departure. She snarled at him as he looked at her, and spun out, her magic a whirl of shifting blue smoke, her shining black hair streaming as she left.

"She will take a different path...make a different journey." Jareth turned to the sound of his mother's voice, her golden horns winking in the light of the ballroom, like a born crown. He looked to her, his heart filling in a hole that had appeared at her death.

"And...my journey, mother? What path will I take?" 

"We will make it together. Your place my son, even after all this time, is at my side. This journey will complete two stories. Efficiency is always good, no?" She extended her hand, and he tucked it firmly in his arm. The crowd roared their pleasure at this, the start of their entertainment. Lady Harrida looked amused, but soon her green eyes grew bright and wild with the promise of chase, and Jareth felt his own instinct join the song. Her next words were sharp with excitement and old magic.

"Now, after them, to the hunt. Before the trail is cold!"

Sarah was not sure where she had been left, but she was most definitely alone. It was very odd, but she felt as if she had taken Toby's original place, as if she were the prize this time. Still, there were worse places to be kept...the garden that surrounded her was beautiful, the flowers swaying gently as the breeze teased them. There was a pond in the center, and a nest of soft pillows to the side, under a soft pink cherry tree, it's branches supporting a canopy of blue gauze. 'I wonder who decorates...' it was a vague wonder, though, and she sat by the pond, trailing her fingers in it. Blinking, she looked closer, seeing Lenam's reflection. She turned, noting that her pointe shoes had been replaced with soft white boots, and her hair was a riot about her head...like Jareth's. Sarah blinked at her. 

"You're not really here, are you?" 

"No, Sarah, I am not." she sighed "I apologize in advance, for this. Yet another intrusion I make in your life." 

"I can't bring myself to resent you for it." Sarah smiled, and Lenam gave her a tight one back. Sarah blinked. It was an expression she had not seen on Lenam's face...unfamiliar. Lenam sighed.

"You must know—that I did have a larger purpose for thrusting you back into the Underground." Sarah nodded.

"You wanted...me to be with your brother." she blushed a bit. Lenam nodded, looking grim.

"And--do you think you could stay with him?" Sarah blinked.

"Stay? I'm still here, aren't I?--" 

"Sarah. I mean in the permanent sense." Lenam registered the shock on Sarah's face, her dark eyes nearly burning through her. The two were silent for several minutes, before Sarah could force herself to splutter about it. Her father! Toby! It was...it was...

What she in her selfish heart wanted.

She looked at Lenam, her green eyes wide, but sharper than they should have been for a dreamer.

"You mean...you meant to make me queen to his king?" Lenam nodded softly.

"You had it right the first time. I _mean _to make you the goblin Queen." Sarah couldn't help but stare slack-jawed, even as sparks seemed to glance off her skin. Her mind jumbled all the ramifications of marrying the Goblin king together...heirs...god, that meant consummation...and other less important things. She was a little frightened that the first seemed only to excite her. But it was a while before her startled brain worked out the biggest flaw. Lenam recognized the moment, smiling.  

"Clever as always, Sarah."

"But--he'll far outlive me. That's hardly fair, especially if he loves me...and if...if-" Sarah paused, looking to her friend, who laid a hand on her shoulder. She nodded, sighing a bit. 

"I have thought this through. Should you choose to accept him--if all goes well--I will ensure that you live as long as he lives. That you are one of us." Sarah looked at her, reading between the lines. She was no fool, regardless of what anyone thought.

"All of this--hinges on my choice, doesn't it? But what I don't get...is why you would want him married so badly." 

"I—do not want to be queen." 

"Erm...why?" Lenam sighed, sitting down in the grass beside her.

"If you were Queen, Sarah, you would be relatively free. Jareth would attend to matters of state, and you would only have to do small things, and give him your love, and eventually children. With your lifespan, it would be no rush. But...If I were Queen--" here she flopped to her back. "There would be no Jareth. I would be expected to marry someone of station, or not marry at all, and I would be, in effect, alone."

Sarah processed this, noting the sorrow she heard in the word 'alone'. Again, Sarah was no fool. Lenam would be forced to hold Barthael at arms length, and no matter how she avoided the subject, this would tear her apart, when added to Jareth's death.

It seemed it was up to her, one puny mortal girl, to decide between her family and all dear to her underground. I was quite daunting...but logically, she figured, Jareth would let her visit her family. And to marry him...while being almost unimaginable, seemed like...well, it seemed like the right choice. Her heart was voting in the yes column, regardless, jumping in her breast for the opportunity. Taking a breath, she put a hand to Lenam's arm, and worked up an incredulous smile.

"I p—swear, that should he offer, I will take it."

Lenam smiled then, and Sarah could swear she felt the air shift, carrying the promise into permanence.

At the moment that Sarah swore, the black queen, Nikeri, was hopelessly lost. She hissed in frustration, having the distinct feeling this was purposeful. She had entered this labyrinth but an hour ago, and she was already about half done with it's deceptively beautiful facade. It was not like the goblins Labyrinth, though there were creatures lurking. It was ever fill with sun, and the glitter was there, blue this time, but everything else was utterly incomparable to it's cousin. Raising her arms, she addressed the sky, snarling like a wild cat. 

"Care to tell me your game, daughter of mine?" 

"Perhaps. But I am no daughter of yours, so no more of that." 

"_Fine. _But please, indulge me." 

"the whole truth-" the girl appeared, wearing white opposite to her black, smiling slightly. "is that you don't really deserve, in my opinion, to know anything." Nikeri hissed, moving to throttle her. Her hands passed through her slim neck, wringing a grin from her small mouth.

"Do you remember the prophecy that you gave the king?" this caused her to pause, her electric blue eyes sharpening.

"Yes. I remember quite well." Lenam tossed her head, grinning in a decidedly nasty way. She straightened her clothes.

"Wrong king. In truth, it was that prophecy that caused his death." Nikeri recoiled, snarling her dissent. "oh, yes, Black queen. It was your fault. And since you came all this way--I'll indulge you further. Enjoy the show-" she disappeared then, leaving the black queen to hiss at the vision that started around her.

Mother and son found the gates presently. No dwarf guarded these, only Barenwyn sat in front of them, spinning silk straight from the back of her body. Harrida caught her breath, meeting her eyes. Barenwyn said nothing, just extending a slim hand, the extra joint in her fingers making them seem appropriately spidery. Jareth understood first, ushering his mother closer. The seamstress retrieved an end of the silk, handing it to her former lady.

"Should the truth be too much, my lady." Harrida took it, and as she did, one door, small and unassuming, opened. Smiling her thanks, both of them, Jareth looking distinctly unsure for once, entered.

Jareth went first, looking about. It was not what he expected, surely. The walls were deceptively bright. Harrida was quick after him, her hand on his arm, the end of the silk in the other.

"That way, I'd wager. I wonder how she made all this-" Jareth went the suggested direction, his brow furrowing.

"I suspect it is all glamour--but it is awfully large for it." they rounded a bend, only to find a dead end. Attempting to backtrack, they found it closed. Jareth scowled, but Harrida hid a grin.

"Tricksy thing, isn't she?" 

"Reminds me of someone else I know." she pursed her lips at that, turning back to the dead end. It was actually more like a circle, with a majestic fountain in the center. It poured not water, but some glittering liquid that fairly sang as it tumbled down, out of the mouth of a very distressed looking mermaid. Jareth looked as well, not batting a lash as the thing gave an audible wretch, spitting out the remaining liquid.

"Finally--that stuff tastes awful-" 

"ah--you'd be a denizen of this labyrinth?"  

"ah, yes, I would. And you'd be challengers, correct?" Jareth scowled at her, but she only blinked almond eyes, her tail flopping as she adjusted. Harrida shook her head, approaching the edge of the basin at the bottom.

"Might I ask why we are trapped with you? Not that you're a punishment, mind-"

"Oh, but I am." she smirked, gesturing to the liquid. "Each of you must drink the liquid until you can see the passage. Likewise, the passage will not exist until you do." Jareth's scowl deepened, and he looked to his mother, then back to the mermaid.

"Drink, and nothing more?" 

"Trust me, it's enough." Warily, both mother and son bent over the liquid. Their eyes met in the reflection, and Harrida suddenly smiled, throwing him into confusion.

"What?"

"Let us turn it into a game. Humor me-"

"Very well-"

"Very good. After each drink, we ask a question of the other-" before she said another word, he took the cup the mermaid offered, dipping it in and gulping down the liquid. He coughed at the flavor, like rotten strawberries and grass and potatoes. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't place exactly what.

"Alright mother--did you write that book? The labyrinth?"

She stared at him, the gold rings that circled her green irises glinting in the light. Her head lowered, and her golden horns shone the same way, nestled in her riot of ruby curls.

"yes, I did." she scooped up some of the liquid, dumping it into her mouth. To her it tasted like a hunk of raw, rancid meat. "what is it you really want to know, my son?" he stared at her still, mismatched eyes sharp on her face, or what he could see through her hair.

"Oh, many things, mother." he took another swig, his mouth twisting "let us start with this: how exactly did you make it come true, and why?" She looked up then, smiling a bit easier. The mermaid looked amused.

"Oh, that. I didn't mean to, at first. But as I wrote, I wished so hard that it would be true-" she bit her lip, looking up to the sky. "and then I gave it a terrible ending. I'm sorry. I think...that I was trying to teach you. That love cannot be demanded." she scooped another cup to her mouth, barely reacted to the taste. "What is the other question?" Jareth said nothing, instead scooping more of the liquid, which had been vastly increasing in disgusting taste since his first drink. His face was twisted with distaste, so much like his father that lady Harrida flinched imperceptibly.

"You disappeared. Why? Where did you go?" the mermaid looked ready to protest the extra question, but Harrida held her hand up, her eyes gleaming wetly. She set her cup aside, her lips pressed white and thin.

"I have no grand answer to that. It had much to do with premonition…and much to do with my own cowardice. And I cannot pretend that I deserve to be forgiven." Jareth stared at her, but she gestured. There behind them, was an ornate door. He took a step toward it, and Harrida stepped to his side.

"I have a feeling, my son, that much of what I am alluding to will be revealed in your sister's game." Jareth opened the door, his eyes unreadable.

"Let us hope so."

Lenam, the real, breathing, princess, sat on a bower of honeysuckle at the top of the Labyrinth, in a garden seemingly conjured up out of nowhere. Barthael stayed at her side, marveling at her work. She tapped oval nails against the heel of her boot. Every now and then, the scent of her knight's magic would stir her from her brooding, or his fur would brush her neck, and eventually she lifted her hands and tangled her hands in it, and plunked her face into the softness on his arm. He stared at her for a moment, and then he was kneeling next to her, moving her grips and her face to his soft neck.

"My lady--what is wrong?"  
"Oh, Barthael--you bat no eye, flinch no muscle at my guilt. Tell, me what have I ever done to deserve so much devotion?"  
"There are many answers I could give," he lifted her face, to look into dark eyes. "But the true one is one you know already, if you wish to see it." She stared at him, and then scrambled in a flurry of movement, kicking a hole into the delicate seat as she went. With a jerk she collided into him, knocking them both to the blue-green grass. His eyes widened at this, and he could only blame this on his surprise for a few seconds before he could think of nothing but her. It was inevitable- she had managed in that move to lay atop him, and her hair, wild about her face and shot through with light from the artificial sun, intoxicated him as it curtained around his face. He blinked, once, twice, before her eyes caught his, and he could look nowhere else.

"My head is ever full of you." She held the stare, and his breath caught in his large chest. She was so small in comparison, but possessed him like no other. Her eyes were searching now, lustrous as dew. "Always full of you. And you never told me-"

"Lenam-"

"Ah, say it again-"  
"Lenam, my lady, I….didn't dare to hope. I haven't any right." He would have protested more, but her mouth covered his, and all rational thought once again flew. His heart beat like a caged bird, and hers did too, when he responded. It did not work smoothly, but it was right, and this helped things. Her mouth was soft, and when he gave into the temptation to flick his tongue across it she made a soft sound, which nearly undid him.

Lenam dug her fingers into his mane, nipping his mouth. She was pleased to hear his low rumble, and sank her fingers deeper to drag her nails across his scalp, silently urging him to touch her, that he more than allowed such things. He responded as she wished, but even so she wasn't prepared. His large hands glided up her small spine, bringing with them a wave of fire, and she pulled back to hiss out a breath. He watched her, knowing that this kiss had ended. She looked to him, her mouth swollen and her cheeks flushed.

"This is why I must win. To love you." His heart stuttered in time with the chime of a clock. The final puzzle had begun.

an: oh geeez….I'm sorry it's been so long. But I've been in college and sick and, well, etc. we're getting near the end though! I promise you one more romantic scene with Jareth and Sarah, if not more. I like those ;)


	15. Beginning of the End

Beginning of the End

Sarah had a moment to yawn before she was set to hyperventilating. She had dozed in the garden, but she was certainly not there now. She stared above, calming her breath slowly before turning her head. The ceiling above her… and the bars around her for that matter…looked like a crystalline web. Rolling to her side, she looked to her bedding, picking some up for examination. That looked like spun silk. Hmm.

"Hello?" She rose, looking out on a veritable forest of crystal webbing. The glen farthest from her rustled shortly after her call.

"Sarah?" Her heart caught as she heard Jareth's voice. Suddenly, combined with her surroundings, she knew exactly what was going on. Leaning against the slim bars, she raised her voice to him.

"Jareth! I'm safe for now!" She didn't want him rushing through it, because she had just realized…she was the goal.

Jareth growled, feeling very undignified, stuck as he was. His only saving grace was the very fact that Sarah could not see them. His mismatched eyes darted to his mother, and he almost laughed.

She was attempting not to look ridiculous, and failing. The fact was, the door had dumped them into a large spider web that just happened to be lovely. His mother hair was entirely stuck in it, and her legs were splayed at odd angles. And she was upside down.

"That's a charming look for you mother."

"Kindly shut it, junior." She hooked the hair hanging in her vision on her golden horns, looking up. Jareth followed her line of vision, not entirely surprised to see Barenwyn sitting in a chair made of silk in the tree that cornered their glen. She was dressed rather oddly though…her usually hidden body was wrapped in her own silk (which bizarrely didn't stick to the other silk) dyed an organic indigo. He had to force himself not to stare as extra limbs, like a spider's gleaming black, draped themselves over her shoulders and around her waist. He had, after all, known they were there.

" It seems, your majesties, that you are too far in now." Her head tilted, jeweled eyes glinting in the artificial sun. "So how did you find your way so quickly?" Jareth shifted, pulling his hair free, losing some in the process.

"Just lucky I guess. So what is our challenge now?" Harrida struggled out of the web, falling in a heap of fluttering fabric before righting herself. "I would think you would know the answer my son. Technically, a sphinx has the head of a woman and the body of a beast. No offense my friend."

"None taken."

"A riddle then. Well, shall we hear it?" He smirked, pulling free. Barenwyn leaned forward, meeting his eyes.

"This isn't a game anymore, my king. Take care."

"What?" His brows snapped down, and he heard a sharp squeak. Sarah. He jerked.

"My king. What mortal flesh is rosy, downy, as any other, but buds as a flower and grows a heart of stone?" the cords of indigo silk at Barenwyn's neck shifted as she moved, snaking to mute her. She would be no more help.

Jareth deliberated. He wanted to blurt that it was Sarah, rosy and stone hearted. But that was wrong. His mother thought otherwise.

"The answer would seem to be Sarah, the mortal strong enough to face what others couldn't. Right?" Barenwyn lowered her head, and the silk of the walls shot out and drug Harrida through before she could say anymore. Jareth lurched towards her point of exit, but it was densely woven once again. He looked back at Barenwyn.

"I have underestimated you, lady Barenwyn. The answer of course, is a peach." Barenwyn lowered her head again, and her was sucked away too. But this time, he knew it was the right answer.

Harrida landed hard on her tailbone, unable to see through her scarlet hair. And for the moment, she didn't want to. Like her son, she stewed when something went wrong. And she'd been so stupid! Barenwyn, baring her unseelie twisted flesh, telling them it wasn't a game… she should have known. Lenam wasn't playing anymore. This was a real endgame. No one was to leave unchanged.

Sitting up in such a matter wasn't really in her rearing, but to do it any other way would have been unadvisable. She pushed a mass of hair back, looking up and around. There she was, Sarah, slayer of the labyrinth, stuck in a cage. She looked hopeful at the new arrival, but unsure as to whether it was good or not. With the next snarl she understood why. Nikeri was chained by silver, virtually snapping at the bit.

"This is all farce! I am a queen, and this is not how things are d-"

"Kindly shut the hell up, _mother_" The last word was hissed, but clearly audible despite her distance. Lenam stood on a wall overlooking the whole scene. It was then that Harrida started to examine the whole scene.

Jareth was in fact there, clothed in armor (his apparent prize for the riddle), and they were in an arena.

"If this is played right, you'll all learn the truth, and Sarah won't have to fight black queen."

Harrida was sure she heard Sarah say something pretty foul.

Jareth snarled up at his sister, clearly not pleased that Sarah had any part in the endgame at all.

"Nikeri is right. This is not how this is done, sister of mine. Sarah is mortal, she-" Lenam held up a hand, and Barthael stepped into the ring, armed to the tooth.

"Worry not, brother. The battle will be to first blood. And my guard will assure that." Her face was taut with hidden emotion. "This is all to a purpose. The queen Nikeri once spoke a prophecy to her lover. Our father, once king here." She looked to Jareth, smiling bitterly. He shared a similar look, but it was clear he was still unsure how pleased he was with all of this. Harrida watched her son, but stiffened at the mention of the former king. But she said nothing in the hopes that the prophecy would just be told outright. Lenam looked to Nikeri.

"Unfortunately, only she can say it again. I cannot. If you would, Black queen?" Nikeri had grown very still. The manic blue of her eyes centered on Jareth.

"You look so like him." The other occupants froze at the quavering sound of her voice. All looking to her, they all jerked when it abruptly changed quality, as if there were at least three different voices speaking from the black queen's open white mouth. As she spoke, her dress warped, feathers poking out, then fur covering her arms and shoulders. She was the wild, more than herself and less as well.

"A child born of the prophet and king will restore the king and his land to glory. The child will give the king a treasure that shall give him a line destined not to die." Jareth stared at the woman, now looking less like a woman and more like an animal. His father had though that Lenam would give him an undying line…but that couldn't mean…

"But that's not…right…" Sarah spoke now, surprising all of them. She was putting it together too, just a little more quickly. Her dark brows were drawn together, slim hands wrapping around her silken bars. "If she's his daughter, she can't restore his…oh." Her face twisted, looking to her friend. Lenam, however, was watching her blood mother, who in turn was watching her.

"No." She was straining against her silver chains once more, form shifting again into something quickly becoming grotesque. "He was not what you are claiming! He would not-"

"He did not know what he would do!" Lenam suddenly thundered, the wall cracking under her. "He knew I had what he wanted, and he meant to beat the truth from me. And do you know why you saw his death?" She pointed to her eyes, now sparking with light. "Eye of the beholder, mother. I killed him with your eyes. I couldn't see anything." She straightened, now that everyone was staring at her, and straightened her outfit. "You had reasons. No difference. You'll cooperate for your guilt. We shall have a tournament!" Suddenly, all of the guests of the ball were there in the suspiciously bleacher like areas around the arena. Lenam raised her voice to the crowd. "You have all have watched, as I have allowed. You know who is to be punished. Let it be known that Nikeri of shift shadows, the black queen of dreams, is sentenced to give her immortality-" this the crowd roared at in a mixture of outrage and delight "and award it to whoever can best her." The whole of the group stared at her, Sarah understanding, Jareth suspecting, and the two queens shocked at this. But they jolted as she spoke again.

"And her first opponent is….me."

AN: I'm sooo sorry this took so long, my friends. part of my problem resides in the issue of how to end this story. I am still plotting, and would love to hear your thoughts on this or anything else. so review!


	16. The Fading Fugue

The Fading Fugue

an: behold, the climax of this beast! I hope to make it of epic proportions, with some character building experiences, some romance, and some resolution. Hang on.

Sarah had thought she was the prize in this game, after all, that was what Toby had been. It appeared she was mistaken. Barenwyn had appeared a moment ago within her little cage (well, not 'appeared' so much as just unfathomably stepped through the bars-) and was clothing her in leather armor with the same green and purple sheen as a Japanese beetle. She started to question, but her companion only answered all of them in one clipped and neat paragraph.

"My lady is not so steady in this moment that I would fail to arm you, Sarah. The dark queen's fate may fall to your mortal ingenuity if all else fails," She cinched the breastplate tight, then, as Sarah opened her mouth again: "I'm sorry it is not more, dear one. It would be metal were I not allergic." And, with that, she pulled a sword from parts unknown, clear as glass and twice as lovely."Borrowed from a cousin of the king. Take care it does not break…again, that is."

Sarah stared at it, not remembering having taken hold of it. She did, however, remember the rush of magic it passed to her when she did. Hefting the sword experimentally, she noted the stiff movement of her arm plates, hoping they wouldn't slow her, especially what her shoulder piece creaked with apparent age and stubbornness. Wonderful. Raising her eyes, she caught Jareth's mismatched pair and felt a flush of gratitude entwined with something deeper, something it would do her no good to analyze. He smiled at her as if he knew she had a depth of courage yet unfound. She swallowed, staring at her fingers encasing the sword, willing them not to shake. She hoped to hell he was right.

*********

Lenam, as a bastard princess, had never considered how very complex duels among her people could be. It was a brutal sport reserved for men, under normal circumstances. Barthael seemed to know how it went; she was shocked when he even knew exactly how her armor went on. She had boggled herself at the sight of so many buckles-good Danu, they fastened to everything!-but he and her opponent had no issues with them.

Also, in her ignorance, she had not considered that her mother's court would not be as particular about which gender dueled. She was herself taught how to fence, and had thought she would at least stand a chance against Nikeri.

It was clear, as the black queen took hold of a sword with a gilt handle, swinging it dispassionately, but with an easy skill, that she had underestimated her. Lenam was going to lose, at best.

"A duel for trial is to first blood with so many challengers." The elder from before, the one who had condemned her, proclaimed, his voice reedy from pitching it loud. "Disobey and the duel is ended. The challenger will step aside for the next if they violate, the guilty will die." He dropped his hand. Lenam was not prepared for landing on her ass.

Nikeri had slapped her across the face with the broadside of the sword. She now stood close, so that Lenam could see her manic blue eyes. When had she moved?

"Mark me, if I have but one blow to cut you, I will not waste it." She bared sharp teeth, swinging the sword toward her neck. Lenam felt adrenaline rush, rolling so that the sword cut off some of her hair instead of her neck. She opened her mouth to remark about it, but Nikeri was upon her as soon as she stood, smacking her again in the face, so that her mouth ground against her teeth with a thud that left her ears ringing and blood in her mouth. She was uncertain whether she cursed (she knew she had to spit though-) before the damned sword struck the torso plate with a solid crack. The next one, she blocked.

With an identical snarl and sword, she drove back the blow, using the half-second shock on Nikeri's part to smack her in the face, 'in the fashion' as it were, with the sword. The black queen learned faster, it seemed, as they were soon back to sparring .

"Do you know what it is to be toyed with, Lenamara?" It was such a sudden question that she faltered in the face of the fierce hatred in those manic blue eyes. With that opportunity, the black queen struck her with the hilt of the sword as she moved to speak, knocking her jaw out of place. She vaguely heard a bark-like sound from the audience, but was more focused on her shameful whimper at the sheer pain.

"Your father showed me, after I gave you away. Now I will show you!" Lenam held her sword up, knowing it was futile when she saw the muscles tense in her opponent's neck. She was right; Nikeri swung her sword at just the angle and force to shatter it. The pieces, three of them, clanged to the ground, one of them stopped to rest on her hand just long enough to cause a sizzling burn. She realized then that her face would probably be suffering burns too; something she'd feel after her whole body stopped hurting. It was hard to focus, and she was unsurprised when she was smacked across the knees, bringing her to them. She thought to use her hands, but before she could complete the thought, the round butt of the sword dislocated the shoulder connected to her unburnt hand. Her mouth opened silently, screaming out at the pain that inhabited so many parts of her body. She looked up, sure she was in shock now to see Nikeri looking…remorseful? Or maybe just guilty, or maybe…many things. She lifted her sword, blue eyes suddenly deeper.

"I cannot go back, nor forgive anyone, let alone myself. " She considered her sword again, and in her delirium, Lenam half expected her to cut herself and end it. Instead, she drew the still sharp tip along the existing scar where many of the nerve endings were severed so long ago. It was an odd feeling, not feeling the pain but feeling the blade part her skin like butter nonetheless; rather like becoming a clay sculpture for but a moment. She stared up at her mother, feeling the slick heat of blood coat her lower face like a veil. Nikeri's eyes watched and froze into hard chips of ice once more. "So I will remain unforgivable."

The audience roared, so excited at the violence that they didn't care much that they disapproved. It was determined that as the winner, Nikeri would choose her opponent after a short break. Dimly, Lenam knew that was horrible, but couldn't remember why. Barthael knelt next to her, popping both her jaw and arm. She did cry out then, gaining a singular moment of lucidity to realize the reason this was very, _very _bad before passing out.

*********

Jareth, at the end of said 'break'- which was ridiculous, of course- stood.

"This is insane. She is in no place to request anything!" the crowd seemed to agree, but the elder, unofficially in charge, held up a hand.

"Then you volunteer to aid whosoever Nikeri chooses?"

"…yes." He wasn't sure why that applied, or what sense it made, but Nikeri looked too pleased, which only served to make him feel slightly better about helping whoever she'd pick, but didn't bode well for him.

He was more of a warrior than his sister, but still, her beating had left him shaken. His sister was no wilting flower, but Nikeri was just too much, too fast, too strong.

"I, queen of shifting shadows, choose Sarah Williams and the goblin king Jareth to duel." Her face, like bisque porcelain in the artificial light of Lenam's labyrinth, was positively lit with glee. He scowled back at her, feeling an intense crease forming in both his brow and attitude. Nikeri knew his weakness. Never a good quality in an enemy.

But since she already knew, he took the chance to look at Sarah. The green of her armor shone into her eyes, intensifying the fire in them. She looked like a warrior, just for a moment, and he wished it were true. She caught his eyes then, and he saw the small crease of worry, destroying the image. She descended from her little cage with Barenwyn's help, hefting a shimmering sword in such a way that suggested she knew how to use it. He supposed she could have learned, as an actress, and he rather hoped she had. From the smug look on the black queen's face, she planned to use Sarah's mortality against them both.

It was definitely an unfavorable situation. He stepped into the arena next to Sarah. He couldn't not look at her, under the circumstances. She was looking back at him, with a disturbing look of calm.

"Jareth, don't…"

"Showing concern, precious?" His smirk was unfelt, but the relief on her face made it worth the farce.

"As if. All I'm saying is…don't get yourself killed." He grinned, showing a sharp canine and a dimple that tilted the eye over it, tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear.

Sarah shivered at the miniscule contact, gripping the transparent sword a little tighter, if for no other reason to feel the magic surge into her fingers, clearing her head. For once, the fact that someone else had plans for her life was a reassurance, instead of the source of chagrin. Lenam's insanity was now morphing into a set of interlocking plans.

She would say it gave her confidence, but after seeing the Lenam take such a beating, she wasn't about to develop any. She listened carefully for the battle call, along with watching their opponent just as carefully. She would not be taken by surprise when she was so much weaker than everyone here.

"At the ready! …Duel!" Sarah bid her feet to move, speeding towards Nikeri, who made no move whatsoever. Her eyes were manic no longer, but a calm blue of the ocean in her assurance of victory. Sarah pushed that observation out of the way, opting to swing back her sword (like she had as Joan of arc once). It never struck.

Nikeri blocked Jareth (whom she had never seen move-) with her sword, crunched Sarah's instep with her heel and swatted her down like a bird. Crap.

'think, Sarah, think!' She chided herself silently, watching Jareth beat Nikeri back for just a moment. She was satified, just a little, to see her sword had left a burn. Magic, probably. But she had to think-she had to unbalance the queen, but how? What the hell had Lenam said about eye of the beholder?

"Hey! So I understand you took control of Lenam to kill the king!" The crowd gasped hideously, apparently unused to plain-spoken accusations. Nikeri snarled, storming over.

"You know nothing of this! I thought-" Unfortunately for the queen, coming closer put the queen's shins in kicking range, and they were soon on the level. She expected a cut to end the battle, but a punch seemed like a sign from the gods to think bigger.

Jareth pulled her off, crossing swords with her. But he winked. So what? Keep going? Alrighty then.

"Thought what? That you'd just kill him after he left you? Not very sporting-" Sarah stood now, ducking a left jab. She found that the fist that had swung followed her down grabbed her throat, raising her high. She gasped, her vision swimming. This was bad.

"I meant to kill the heir! If my spawn was in line, I could claim queen!" The crowd gasped again.

…For a minute, maybe two, no one moved, and only Sarah's strangled breathing was heard. The elder cleared his throat in a sound like a wheeze.

"With this admission, first blood is lifted. The lady Sarah and his majesty are now judge, jury, and executioner." Jareth wasted no time in stabbing Nikeri in her shoulder. She screamed in pain at the searing iron, but the sound resolved into a determined snarl, squeezing Sarah all the tighter. She wasn't letting go. Jareth looked panicked, afraid to jar the queen enough to snap Sarah's neck.

But it didn't matter. Sarah suddenly knew what to do.

"A…again, Jareth."

"Do it, goblin king, and I snap her!"

"Ag-gain! End it!" she gasped at the effort, but still managed to complete her plan, needing only a little movement.

Jareth stabbed through her arm, obviously still wary of a jarring killing blow. The queen screamed once more, and Sarah acted.

She tossed the iron ring down the black queen's throat.

…In death, Nikeri kept no form for more than a few minutes. Both Sarah and Jareth watched, feeling as if such a formidable foe deserved this last respect. They sank with her to the ground, unwrapping her hand and taking the sword out of her body, and watched her shift. She took both of their faces first, one after the other, then Lenam's, almost like an unspoken apology.

And finally, she showed her mother's face, with the same manic eyes, though green, and alternated back to her own face. Her hands held cat-like claws, and her hair was more plentiful and silkier, like fur, but it was hers. In this, she had not lied. Sarah closed the wide blue eyes with a shaking hand.

Jareth hurried to her, his face taut. Oxygen deprived, she smiled lopsided at him, pulling herself up with his armor for handholds. When she winced at a broken rib, he spoke.

"Say you'll be mine, Sarah. I can save you-" She looked puzzled then, lifting a hand to trace along a blooming bruise on his jaw.

"I was under the impression I already was." He looked a little shocked, as if he had not thought she would consider them so while apart. She smiled at him like he was simple, even if she was the one who looked it. His eyes softened, and she took this as permission to promptly, and with great relish, pass out on his shoulder.

*******

An: phew! We're coming to the end, and I give you a cliffy! Sorry, especially because I wrote an ending that wasn't *ducks tomatoes* I love all of you, especially those who watch me, and it'll be better this way! You'll get more love this way.

Ps: if you pinpoint Sarah's sword's origin you get a cookie. ;)


	17. Ever After

Ever After

It was a wonder, here in the underground, that beds should be so much more comfortable than above. But, Sarah noted, that might have been because she'd been forced to swallow something that made all of her limbs feel like they were made of cotton. It was overkill, naturally, but she couldn't complain.

When she'd woken, her wounds had made themselves known with excessive force. In between moans, Barenwyn had poured what felt like slime down her throat. Jareth had been there, barking that the elixir was a bad idea, right before she had started to hallucinate. Barenwyn and Barthael's worried faces became snarling and hissing, and when she had glimpsed one of Barenwyn's extra Spider-like limbs, she had screamed like she had swallowed a teakettle. Luckily, the next stage was unconsciousness.

Now, the cotton limb was wonderful, but disorienting. How long had it been? What part of the castle was this? Blinking up at the ceiling, she ran through what she did know. Her foot was broken where Nikeri had stepped on it, and only adrenaline had allowed her to use it after. Many of the small bones had shattered, and her ankle had a hairline fracture. Aside from this, her rib was broken, and her throat was bruised. It was almost shameful how well she'd come out. Lenam had fared much worse.

She looked up at the sound of the door, blinking at the speed of molasses. Jareth stepped in, looking weary. It was highlighted by the sight of his hair scraped into a low ponytail, making his cheekbones into sharp ridges. Seeing her awake, he stepped to the bed quietly, which made Sarah notice, with great amusement, that he was wearing slippers instead of boots. He caught her look, grinning.

"It's early yet."

"Is it? I can't tell with the curtains." He chuckled softly, but it was rather brittle. She watched him, watched the light from the crack in the curtains waver on his collarbone. She felt a curious ache at his beauty.

"How long was I out?" She traced his knuckles with her middle finger. She almost laughed when his cheeks pinked.

"Twelve hours and some minutes."

"But that stuff wasn't supposed to knock me out at all, right?"

"Correct." His face was utterly serious. She felt her brow crease.

"Jareth? What is really wrong?"

She watched his features, becoming increasingly concerned with his concern, as it was. Of the many expressions she'd seen him wear, of malice or lust or any of them, she'd yet to experience this one to catalogue it. Now that she was, she realized it was not one she liked. It cast his brows in sharp lines, and his mouth was a tight thin line. He looked so perfectly unhappy, that it left her a bit panicked. She pressed a hand to the hollow under his cheek in a silent plea to tell her what was going on. He started into it almost too immediately, with a harsh breath.

"You are so vulnerable, Sarah. I cannot bear it." He turned into her hand, so that his breath fanned across the skin of her palm. It was oddly comforting. He continued that way. "When you were apart from me, in the mortal world, it was nothing. I would have known, somehow, instinctively maybe, when you were in danger. But here, there are folk who could kill me, let alone you. If Nikeri had been any cleverer than you, we would both be dead." He closed his eyes, and Sarah felt the rush of panic resurface.

"So….what? You'll send me back?" He looked at her like she'd struck him and was not instead holding his face still.

"It would be wiser, but I have never claimed to follow any wise course of action. Is…that what you desire, Sarah?"  
"No!" She answered immediately, and then had to force herself to breathe. She had managed to startle herself with the intensity with which she rejected going home. Jareth stared at her, managing to make it look like he wasn't gawking. When he seemed to see she wasn't sputtering provisos and taking her sudden answer back, he lifted her hand and kissed it with such warmth that she shivered.

"Then what do you suggest we do, Sarah mine?" Some of his playfulness was there, however tentative. She smiled, letting it spread into a grin she had so seldom given him.

"Lenam knows the way. But the first part is up to you."

"Oh? Care to assist me?"

"I'm not allowed. I can only answer yes or no, I'm told."

He sank onto the bed with some of his former grace, simultaneously comforting her and thrilling her. Sitting next to her, he leaned ever closer, and grinned when her cheeks pinked.

"It would be something you'd freely give, correct?"

"Y-yes."

"Hmm, well…simple usually is the way to start. A kiss maybe?"

Sarah grinned and leaned forward slightly. She could taste his surprised exhale, like exotic fruit, probably his breakfast. She pressed her mouth to his, tilting her head to perfect the seal. She shivered as his hand slid slightly under her collar, opening her mouth to steal his soft groan after she bit his lip. She had to drag herself away, feeling a curious vengeance in the way his eyes were unfocused.

"Nope." He stared at her while he regained focus. He was still so close that so of his escaped strand of hair rested on her cheek.

"It's…nothing more… intimate than kissing is it?" His sharp eyebrow rose. Her face turned into a skillet in record time.

"No!" He laughed then, the sound reverberating through her chest. She hid her face and snorted along with it.

He dragged her hands away, kissing each of them in turn. She had to look at him then, warming at his softened expression.

"I love…you." He whispered it, his mismatched eyes gleaming. "I was doomed to love you, Sarah." She smiled, her lips trembling.

"I love you, and that was never written into the story." He grinned, looking relieved. Then, he seemed to realize the solution she'd meant, all at once. He looked pointedly at her left hand, where her iron ring had left a tan line. She nodded. He looked about seventeen for a moment, excited yet leery.

"I need to contact my mother. I shall return shortly." He kissed her fiercely, and raced out. She stared after him before letting out a breath. All she could think was that…well, at least her step-mother couldn't say she could do better than a king.

**********

Barthael could never have guessed he'd be this nervous in front of such a lovely woman. The Ailleacht stared at him, her violet eyes like ships of colored glass. She sat in the middle of woods, in a stump fashioned into a throne. He reminded himself that she was supposed to be the epitome of reason and benevolence. Unfortunately, from her expression, she knew exactly what he was to her adopted great granddaughter.

"Where is Lenam, knight?" Her voice was rigid, maybe with fear? He couldn't tell. He looked up at her more directly. The corner of her mouth twitched down every few seconds. She was upset certainly.

"She's resting, Ailleacht. I insisted. Her injuries are too severe." He scraped his hair back, watching her face. She relaxed visibly, drawing a lily-white hand across her brow

As he watched, her throne sank into a chair, and vines rose from the earth and entwined into a chair obviously meant for him. He swallowed, but…he knew he had to sit down, or there would be a conflict. So he sat, and watched her lean forward, her elbows on her knees.

"You really do love her." Her voice was back to being like flutes, unhostile. He nodded, and she shook her head. "I can see it in your face, your words." He looked down, at the earth, at her silver skirts, trying to compose any words to say. He could feel her eyes upon him.

"How much do you love her?" It was a loaded question, to a faery, who couldn't lie. But, it was also an easy question. He looked back to her face.

"More than I deserve to love anyone. More than I can manage to love life." He was unashamed of the quake in his voice. She was pleased.

"Well, that aside, if you're here in her stead, then it is time I made an appearance at the castle. But-" she interjected when he rose, and he sat again for the moment. She reached into her bodice-which made him look away like lightning, his ears flattening to his head-and she pulled out a silver chain strung with five rings. It was surprising the see her fire colored lashes limned in tears.

"I have held these for far too long. One for every year he loved me." She pressed a gleaming silver band into his hand, knotting in on itself around a moonstone bright with the colors of dusk. "He died doing so. If you love the princess like you say, you will do so for her."

His golden eyes fixed on hers, awed.

"I swear it will be so." She graced him with a smile he could swear Lenam had to have learned exactly.

"Brilliant. Now let's bring my granddaughter the emerald." She stood up and bustled off, leaving him slightly behind, blinking rapidly.

"wait---for what?" He followed after her, completely befuddled.

***********

As soon as her grandmother had dropped an emerald ring with a tree of life on either side, Harrida had dragged Barewyn over from the window, sat her down, and started weaving her silk into yards of sheer fabric. It may have been leaping to conclusions, but it kept her from making undignified sounds of happiness while she waited for Jareth's inevitable arrival. After all, her grandmother liked to be timely.

Jareth burst into the room not two minutes later. They had two yards of silk done which she hid in the basket at her feet.

"Hello, my son. Are you…wearing slippers?"

"It's early yet."

"Of course it is." She grinned at him, and he had to pinch of the bridge of his nose. He heard her make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. He shook his head, ignoring it.

"Mother…I…I'm marrying Sarah." He was not surprised when her eyebrow arched toward her horns.

"She agreed then?" She barely stifled a grin as his eyebrow twitched. He drew in a breath, yanking his shirt free of wrinkles.

"Silly of me, I meant that I have decided to ask her."

"Of course you did."

"Any way, I mean to ask if you might have an idea as to what sort of…"  
"Oh Jareth, don't worry about it." She offered up the ring, laughing at his surprised expression. He'd meant to ask for a ring to be handed down, but hadn't expected there to be oen at the ready. "Your great grandmother…anticipated your need."

He studied the ring, smiling softly. His great grandmother, Minesemphony. He recognized the ring…She had loved a mortal before their great grandfather, and he knew that this was a momentous occasion, for her to let things he'd made go.

"I'll thank her in time. Thank you mother. You can go back to weaving silk now." He walked away, ignoring his mother's playful grin at being caught.

*********

Lenam took a breath, simultaneously pleased to do so and irritated that it hurt so much. It was slightly humiliating.

But, She couldn't ignore that they'd won anyway. She smiled at the ceiling, or rather the canopy above her bed, wincing slightly at the action. She was ever proud of Sarah. She had hinted at that damn iron ring, but had never thought they'd defeat Nikeri with it! How perfectly humiliating for the black queen. She'd be more charitable if the woman hadn't broken her face.

She was slightly worried about that too. Would her knight still think her lovely? She had seen herself in one of the nurse's glasses…She wasn't sure she found herself lovely, frankly. Her entire jaw was a bruise, blooming like purple poppies. Her body was probably worse. The only plus was that her scar on her face had healed better the second time around.

"I shall take the tray, Nichel."

"You're certain? She's in a bad way, sir-"

"Spare me." Barthael was in the room then, bearing a tray of suitably liquid foods. She lifted her head to look at him.

"How'd it go?" She hated the slur in her words, and took the spoon only because he'd fixed her with gold eyes sharp and aware. She wasn't getting away with not eating.

"Well. She waits in the king's study." She sighed in relief, swallowing more soup. He was very still for a moment. She squinted at him.

"What?"

"I told her how much I loved you." She blushed at his intensity, burning bright in golden eyes fixed on her.

"And you said?"

"That I loved you more than I deserve to love anyone. More than I could manage to love life. Which is inadequate." He smiled then, and not for the first time she had to resist tackling him. She settled for orchestrating the crash of their mouths. He resisted at first, probably because she was so injured. And it did hurt, with the way she had to open her mouth to accommodate the odd shape of his mouth. But the first sweep of his tongue against hers when he stopped resisting was like a balm against the ache.

"The feeling is mutual, big guy." His smile in response was like a second sun in the room.

********

The Ailleacht, or Minesephony, could feel the years weighing on her like a heavy cloak. Seated in a brocade chaise in hues of deep green, She looked into the vanity. It was an heirloom of her granddaughter's…Jareth had kept it when he'd thought her gone. Now that she was found again, it would likely be moved to her room or passed on to Sarah.

It was out of place in the masculine room, with sweeping lines in art nouveau styles, in cherry wood. In the mirror, it looked as if the frame originated from her hair. Fingering the rings on her chain, she slowly let the illusion of fey fade.

Her hair lifted from her head, into a banner of flaming threads, like fluid wire, and her eyes became like amethyst. Her skin radiated. Fin, the artisan behind the rings, had called her "a fallen star". How terribly right he'd been.

"Oh Fin. How to tell Lenamara she's not adopted at all?" She winced at her own voice, like the rushing of rivers and birdsong. "Our daughter has died. I can only hope she fares better in the next life."

"What…?" She turned so fast that her hair tangled around her face, and it took her a full minute to untangle herself. Jareth stared at her, and then seemed to gain some composure.

"Why didn't you tell us you were…that we were…?"

"That my daughters loved the same man? That I'm a child of Danu? Jareth, even by fey standards that's a scandal." She took his hand. "My great grandson. All I have wanted was a family that was complete. All of you have given me this." He studied her face, as if mesmerized. She watched his brow crease in slow motion.

"Why do you sound like you're on your deathbed, Grandmama?" She winced slightly, smiling at the name. He hadn't called her that since he'd been a child. She reached up to tuck a strand of hair back into his band.

"Because I have three rings left until I can rest, sweetling. But do not let it weigh on you. I will only be going home. But-" She grinned at him. "I'd see you married. After all, I never thought I'd see the day." He flushed, and she laughed. Her mirth rang through the high-ceilinged room like chimes.

****************

****************

Sarah's heart felt as if it were a bird trying to escape via her throat. White-knuckled, she leaned heavily on Lenam's chair. The occupant made herself busy with rearranging her sage green skirts.

"You know why we have to have an audience."

"I know. But I still haven't adjusted to the general idea yet, let alone in front of hundreds of faeries."  
"It's fifty-seven fey and twenty-three of the best-behaved goblins. And besides, if you've gotten this far, you're not uncertain about anything." She grinned, and Sarah felt her face turn into a skillet…again. She was right of course, but that didn't mean she wasn't nervous.

People were still coming in. Her future mother-in-law came forth and scooped her hands up.

"Dear Sarah. I hope this means I'm forgiven for writing that silly book." Sarah laughed softly, nodding. Harrida kissed her hands.

"After all that's happened, I'm glad you did." Harrida grinned, releasing her hands to go and sit in her appointed chair. Sarah noted with interest that there was a rather handsome man seated next to her, with a silver ring through his bottom lip that tilted up when he smiled at her. She wondered if that was a purposeful thing.

She'd yet to see the woman who promised to make her fey. Lenam promised she'd know her when she saw her, that she was a woman so intensely compelling that she was commonly referred to by a word that only meant beautiful. She'd rolled her eyes. Weren't they all?

"Finally, geez." Lenam huffed, scraping her hair back into the coif where it had fallen. Sarah frowned at her before looking to the door. Whoa.

On Jareth's arm was the loveliest creature she had ever seen. This was their great grandmother? No wonder Jareth was…Jareth. She swallowed as they came right for her, Jareth coming to sit to her left, and his great grandmother straight across from them. The entire massive table looked to her expectantly. She raised one fiery eyebrow.

"What? I am only a guest. This is a social call." She smiled at Sarah then, like a bright crescent moon in her starlit face. Sarah blinked. "You must be Sarah. I'm Minesemphony, Jareth and Lenam's great grandmum. Nice to meet you." She took her hand in what Lenam called a lady shake. Sarah could do nothing but smile back at her as she recovered from her chime-like voice.

"I am. Nice to meet you." With that, talking resumed. The food arrived in grand amounts, quickly gathering the guests' attention. Sarah felt slightly queasy at the sight of her plate.

"You alright?" She jumped slightly at the sound of Jareth's voice so close. She nodded.

"You sure?" The sound of the question suggested an 'about this' should be after it. She looked to him, feeling her butterflies dissipate at his worry. He was genuinely concerned. She leaned and kissed the ridge of his cheekbone.

"I'm sure."

After several courses…that Sarah had learned from her twitty mother's funded Europe trip to eat only part of, it was time for dessert. Sarah was slightly startled when Jareth stood up the very moment the last little goblin swallowed the last of the peach compote.

"My people. I have not as yet told you why we feast." There was a generous appreciation murmured towards the unknown cause before he cut in on them. "You will all know before the night continues. But let it be known that free will is ever important." She blinked at the out he was giving her. She was even more surprised when he lifted her to stand on the table and followed her up. It seemed sort of savage, but his audience seemed very pleased. It became obvious when he knelt that he'd wanted them to see. She focused on him, and his intense focus was focused on her.

"When a king weds in the underground, he is promising to give of his power-" He kissed her right hand-"and of himself." He kissed her left. "I promise all I have, my heart, my land, my power, if you'll marry me Sarah."

She felt the smile come in the fashion of dawn, slow and warming, with shades of pink a-plenty. She tugged the tie out her hair, smiling as his wild hair flew away from his head.

"Of course I will." The cheer at her agreement was deafening, but she heard nothing as he surged up to press his mouth to hers. Music started from nowhere, and suddenly he was spinning her a wild dance of joy as the guest clambered up to do the same, kicking the flatware and goblets willy-nilly. She had to yell to be heard.

"Well, I must admit that was a better proposal than last time!"

"And a better answer!" He laughed with a freedom she hadn't heard. Suddenly, they were in a spiral, at the center, with the many guest forming the outer rings, but the people she was beginning to consider her family were close by. Barthael held Lenam up while she held the hands of two dancers, Harrida was laughing while she was being tugged by the be-ringed guest, and the Ailleacht, still new and foreign to her, was beaming bright enough that she belonged in the sky. Lenam grinned.

"I have all I wanted, Sarah. And you?" Minesemphony sang:

"Lift her up!" before she answered, and Jareth did so, but not before slipping a gleaming ring on her finger. She gasped at how lovely it was, and gasped again when they lifted her above the crowd. She laughed, pure and free as Jareth had, intensely happy. Stretching her arms to the ceiling as the Ailleacht's magic wove into her skin, she finally answered her friend come sister.

"Yes! I have all I wanted. Everything."

AN: YAYYYY! Yeah, you're probably getting an epilogue, but don't rush me. I love you all!

Ps: it's muy funny that I finish this right as dean venture says "the guy from labyrinth just turned into a bird!" LAWL.


	18. Epilogue The Wedding March

Epilogue-the wedding march

Sarah had heard, in her lifetime, of the countless trials of getting married. But never could anyone, in a thousand years that it was ever as hard as it was when your fiancé was a goblin king.

The dress, surprisingly, was the easiest step, although it hadn't seemed so at the time. Barenwyn had spun her a dress (she was really quite fascinating when one was lucid, and had surprised all present by answering "yes I know" when Sarah compared her to a burton creation-) and had spun lace according to Sarah's desires, with delicate moon blossoms, jasmine flowers, and curling vines all interwoven into the pattern. It had become very ornate, very fast…But the ladies had asserted that this was to be expected of a queen-to-be, and it was actually very lovely…in the most ostentatious way.

But it seemed this was only the first of many dresses to be fitted, and she soon realized that silk was quite annoying if you became used to it. He hair became ridiculous with static, getting worse after every dress that was put on and removed, and she had to adapt and pin the mass of sable up on her head. This helped only marginally.

Then there was the fact that she was losing humanity fast—Lenam had put her immortalization under way, and while it was a long process, it was short in the grand scheme of things (it had taken her nine months to form as a human, it would take only four to lose her human traits), it gave her a limited window in which to travel home and explain that she was getting married, and not to the man she had been seeing previously, or to anyone they knew, for that matter.

Jareth also had to be persuaded to join her—not an easy task, as he loved to tease, and thought himself immensely funny. Finally, she had stamped her foot, snarled at him about his lack of honor –you were supposed to ask the maid's father about such things, after all-and he had, albeit sulkily, conceded. She had thought his behavior strange until she realized: he'd been nervous!

So before her ears got to knife-point sharpness, they hiked up to the mortal world. Lenam had wanted to come, but Jareth had told her no with no wiggle room. Lenam had looked positively baffled.

Her father had looked quite similar, but Karen had been charmed by her fiancé. Sarah had boggled at his abrupt change in behavior-he'd been so nervous earlier.

They fed her parents a story about meeting in high school (ironic considering what had actually happened-) Jareth had been so very believable.

"I'd always had a-crush on her." He'd flushed then, and she'd have rolled her eyes if it weren't so charming. "but she was always so far away." Karen had given her a meaningful look at that, while her father seemed pleased at his modest nature. If only they knew. Sarah smiled like a woman in love. Which she was.

"But I'm near now." She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, and Karen began cooing about the wedding.

Barthael paced, fingering the moonstone ring. The knots seemed to writhe under each touch, urging him to move, move forward, step it up. He smiled at it. It was meant to be hers. Just as he was.

"Ruminating?" He started, just barely managing to hide the ring. She said nothing, obviously expecting an answer. He scrounged for one.

"You could say that, yes." He sat down on a hay bale, swallowing slightly as she approached, her knee length blue dress swirling around her hips. She settled herself across his knees, laying her cheek against his neck. He closed his eyes against the onslaught.

"About what?" He looked to her then, softening at her relaxed face, coal eyes reflecting gold back at him. He smiled softly at her.

"Truthfully? Weddings." She looked only mildly surprised, her grin blooming like a night flower.

"Oh? Are you-" He leaned to kiss her gently, wrapping a hand in her hair. He didn't know if he could hold it in if she asked him about marriage. So he kissed her, confronting himself with something else that pushed him, forcing himself not to crush her to him. Pulling back, he held his breath, focusing on her soft breath against his mouth. When it looked like she was speechless, he released the breath.

"Eat with me tomorrow? In the garden?" She smiled then, stroking his sleek hair back.

"of course."

Sarah was a bit disturbed by all the rings the Ailleacht ended up handing out. Jareth's mother even captured one for the strange be-ringed guest. She learned later that his name was Davind.

Barenwyn too was given one, shocking everyone by binding her heart to a strange woman named T'zjiri. Sarah would never have known the partner if she had not encountered the woman in exploring the castle.

She'd snuck into a room in the highest level of the castle, hoping to find Jareth's room (soon to be theirs, she realized with a blush-), but had found a smoky room with folk surrounding a…hookah? She'd been puzzled until she remembered the drunken mess of the goblins on her first visit.

But she was most intrigued by the creature spinning tales in the middle, recognizing the fine cloth of her tunic; Barenwyn had been spinning earlier that week. Who was this creature to garner the royal seamstress's attention?

"Ahh, the king's fiancé. Come, sit!" Sarah stared as she came closer. Instead of legs, she had a snake tail. Curiouser and curiouser.

"I am T'zjiri, the teller. You look shocked." Sarah nodded, sitting on one of the plush cushions. She finally managed to look at the woman's face. She was grinning, sharp teeth in a slightly Indian face. Feathery tufts were her ears. Bluish smoke curled from between her teeth as long fingered hands reached over to stroke one of Sarah's changing ears. She flinched, while T'zjiri laughed.

"You are afraid of us. Do you realize that our people support you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You represent another generation. And the regain of our strength."

And so it went. Sarah learned practically everything: who loved who, the in and outs of the castles, (she was told there was more than one-) what would be expected of a queen (including private matters-) and pretty much everything else.

Sarah flushed though much of it, absently patting the goblin that had flopped in her lap. It grinned at her. She looked up at T'zjiri.

"You're more like the castle gossip than the story teller." She laughed.

"Barenwyn said you'd find me. I thought it best that I inform you, what with your new position."

"Yeah, Barenwyn- I noticed you wearing her work. You two friends?"

"No. We're lovers."

i curiouser and curiouser. It seems I've fallen down the Goblin hole…/i She thought, patting the little goblin.

"Well, whatever you are, you're my people." T'zjiri grinned, smoke seething through her teeth to form a ghostly Jareth. When she spoke next, Sarah could almost hear him whisper.

"Exactly,"

Lenam watched as Barthael approached, fidgeting a bit inside her brown dress. The birch bark of her corset strained with her. He smiled at her, setting the basket of food on the rustic table that had always appeared in the garden when needed, sitting across from her. She felt like a flower in the sun with him so near.

"So who is the latest receiver of a ring?" He stilled in his serving of the food- her favorite things, she noticed- and she felt her heart like a bird in her ribcage. Then he smiled unguardedly.

"Guess."

"Barenwyn?"

"Of course. But the bigger is question is to whom." She leaned over the blueberry-glazed duck, eyes bright. Her corset creaked in protest.

"Well? I have to know who the spider-mistress deems worthy."

"The teller."

"T'zjiri? Really?" She sat back, puzzled. But, she supposed it did make sense, with how Barenwyn had missed lady Harrida. But she zeroed in on Barthael, ladling out blackberry clove tea.

"You never told me who got the moonstone one."

He paused, blinking at her, seeming surprised at her knowledge.. He revealed nothing, and she felt her heart pause.

"You were not ready to know."

"What, my grandmother is getting married? How shocking can it be?" He flustered then, taking a vicious bite of his duck. Seeing that he was clearly not going to talk until he was done chewing, she took a bite too, watching him. He swallowed, was quiet for a minute, then smacked a hand to the table, startling her into sloshing her tea onto her corset. They both watched it drip into an elongated heart shape on the silvery bark. When he spoke next, it was soft as it had been when he'd first appeared on the grounds.

"She gave it to me." She looked up sharply, setting down the tea.

"what?"

"She gave it to me." His voice was stronger then, his eyes burning like gold. Suddenly he was by her side. "but that means that it's actually yours."

She smiled down him, kneeling on his knees.

"That always was my favorite one." This, whispered to his mouth.

So it came to be that Lenam eloped. Sarah was quite startled by this-everyone was marrying before she was, and for pete's sake, she was the first to receive a ring! Wasn't she? Sarah adjusted her wispy veil.

Frowning into her own eyes in the mirror, she didn't notice Jareth until his wicked mouth was on her neck.

"Something troubles you, my dear?" She shuddered in the heat of his breath, turning to face him. He kissed her mouth softly, quickly, before she had a chance to respond.

"It's just that everyone is getting married before I am." She pulled a pout, but it felt even foreign to her on her changing features. He chuckled.

"But you know why. Many people are traveling here-including your family-"

"I know." She twisted her fingers as he looped lean velvet clad arms around her waist. It was frightening to feel such a rush of love at the motion. "I'm more dismayed at how much I miss you these days." He was very silent then, drawing her face up by the chin.

She watched his mismatched eyes as he untucked the veil from her hair. He brushed his thumb against her lip.

"I suppose I have been a little remiss in my attentions." His eyes flicked over her face, then her hands-they had grown even more slender. He raised them up gently, kissing each knuckle. She shivered each time. "As I suspected, your senses are sharpening. I didn't want to overwhelm you." She drew closer to him, entranced.

"It's amazing…" her voice hushed to a whisper for a moment before she regained it. "And you have to touch me every time you see me?" She quirked a brow at him. He smirked at her.

"Naturally-" He swooped in to scrape those fierce teeth across her pulse, and she had to fist her fine boned hands in the back of his fine silk shirt-the fragile material tearing in her newfound strength. She felt him growl rather than heard it, dragging him onto the delicate little settee in the alcove.

Between kisses, (to be honest she'd lost track of the number-) he rose away from her, breathing a little harshly.

"I believe…" he licked his lip, looking a little surprised to taste blood. She was surprised she'd bit him. "that I have overwhelmed you, my dear."

She sighed, brushing a thumb down the column of his throat, delighting to see his lashes flutter closed. Because honestly, her skin was on fire. i oh, maybe that's overwhelmed…/i

"But-" He chuckled, shaking his head.

"Believe me darling-very soon, nothing will stop me."

The day of his wedding was surprisingly smooth-except, of course with Sarah's goblin handmaidens pelting him with pincushions every time he attempted to see his bride. She was rather shrill herself:

"You'll shred my dress, you animal! It's very delicate!"

She was probably right.

But was it so wrong to desire his bride? She was lovely in her new skin, and just as strong as he was now. It was all rather exciting-she was now his equal on every level. And if she'd been beautiful before…

But it was also somewhat frightening to get married at all. But really, how long could one man stay a bachelor? Looking out at the gathering guests (it was really probably a good thing Sarah could not see just how many people were here…she'd jump several octaves-) he had to chuckle. iSuch a queen she'll make, /i he thought to himself, feeling a rush of love for his hellcat. With her at his side, no nation would match them.

He checked himself the mirror, frowning at the trousers in the mirror. They were his only concession to Sarah's parents and their sensibilities. As it was, they already had been led to believe he was and heir to some oil company or some such, and that the castle was rented and part of the theme. It wouldn't be wise to push their belief too far.

As it was, he was already wearing a jacket with tails (apparently inappropriate for the time of day-) in a deep indigo, only visible if you were looking closely, with cuffed sleeves. His hair had even been tamed even. It was a testament to his mother. No one else had known how to approach his unruly head.

He chuckled, heading down the stairs to greet his extended family. His grandfather patted him heartily in the back, even Helena was kind. His uncle Ravus came to reclaim his sword, a wiry redheaded mortal on his arm, her hair pulled back into a row of knots. She raised a brow at him. He responded by inviting them to come back when Sarah would be more social. Ravus smiled and said they would if Val-his date's name, he learned-did not have school.

He was even more surprised to find the faery courts king and consort, higher in authority even than himself. He would have bowed, but the king waved it away.

"Happy tidings, Jareth. This is your day, not mine." He glanced through silver eyelashes at his emerald-skinned consort. She smiled at the both of them. "I envy you the privilege"

"I think you have a surplus of privilege, my friend." He clasped hands with the king. "I remember a time when it was not so."

"I do as well." His consort spoke up. "We would like to meet your queen, under less busy circumstances." Jareth was thrown off by her mortal speech patterns, but charmed by the kindness of her request. My, it seemed they'd be having a fuller house than usual. Already his Sarah was gathering more people to fill his castle.

"Naturally you are quite welcome to return in such a case. Now, if you'll excuse me-" he slid out, sidling up to take his place by Barthael. "doing well, my friend?" His best man could only grin.

"Naturally I'm doing fine. And you, my lord? Nervous?"

"Or are you afraid Sarah is about to breathe fire?" Lenam joined for the moment, shaping his cravat.

"I am perfectly fine, thank you." He tugged out of her grip, fixing it himself. "You're the one who is supposed to be with her. The both of you are, am I right? Perhaps it is you two who are afraid." He grinned, chuckled when Lenam's teeth clacked in annoyance.

"Suit yourself." They were down the aisle quickly, powered by his little sister's hasty stride. He chuckled. She wouldn't be mad for long. Now, all he could do was wait.

Sarah's breath shuddered out of her. She had only a matter of moments to spare-even her bouquet had a limited lifespan. The moonflowers would wilt if she waited too long. She took her eyes off of them to look at herself in the mirror quickly before she had to leave.

It was funny, that on her wedding day, of all days, she didn't miss her mother. Somehow, wishing for a happy reunion didn't appeal. She smiled at her new appearance. Maybe it was vain, and petty, but her new look made her feel as if she'd outgrown worshiping her mother. Her hair was closer to the darkest bronze than sable, and her eyes a richer green. She'd had to carefully downplay these things for the sake of her parents, especially her new silvery skin and knife like ears.

But then, everything looked beautiful. This room, her growing family, the man she was marrying (her heart fluttered at that, and for once, it was exhilarating-)…It was amazing, she could hardly-

"Sarah." She whipped around, having to nearly spit out her veil. "It's show time." Lenam smiled at her. Sarah nodded, breathing in slowly as she advanced to the door. Lenam fluffed her skirt, then took off on Barthael's arm. Then, slowly, surely, Sarah made her way out.

Then, nearly gasped at how many people were in attendance. Even the king or faery himself! Good grief. But she kept walking, finally focusing on Jareth.

He did look handsome, she had to admit. He'd been nearly petulant when she had suggested his attire, but in the end she knew he looked rather wonderful for it. Though she could tell he would be complaining later. Especially about that damn cape. Dashing as he always looked in them, she'd grown to resent them after having a half-hour argument with him about not wearing one for a wedding. Really, men were so difficult.

But she forgot about it, looking into his face. She had forgotten how in love a man could look. And his was brilliant, shining to the point where if she'd thought twice she might have worried about the credibility of his humanity. And it was for her! All she could do was mirror it to him.

As she reached the dais, her attention never waivered. He grinned at her rakishly, murmuring.

"Damn that veil. I'd like very much to see your pretty face."

"Patience. You'll have me to yourself soon."

"Mmm, yes I know."

"Jareth!" she hissed at him, fairly sure he could see her just fine through the wispy veil, blush included. She had to pay attention then, because the official (it was not a priest, but priestess, she was interested to see-) was tying a pretty red ribbon around one clasp of hands. Odd, but Jareth knew what to do, so she copied. They recited lines in a familiar enough way, (even if they were different lines-) and soon enough, it was time to kiss Jareth.

She felt her face flush, only able to remember kisses that were not family appropriate. In fact in the many he had stolen before the wedding she couldn't recall one. But he pushed the veil back, allowed Lenam to arrange it, and then kissed her.

It was sweeter, she later came to think, because he now knew he had all the time in the world. She wasn't backing out now-not that she would want to-and so he took his time kissing her, a simple, warm seal of mouths.

When they broke apart, the guests clapped, made all sorts of ruckus, and they preceded down the aisle to a small antechamber apart from the exit the other members and guests would take. There, he gave her another kiss, hotter this time with pent-up energy, but still just as slow. She smiled at him.

"All right, so the reception now. But shouldn't we get untied first?" He laughed softly, resting his cheek against her neck.

"I was hoping that could stay for our wedding night."  
"Jareth!"

But they laughed, wandering towards what was sounding like raucous party. She knew, even as he hand remained tied, that she was never going to get enough of this man, of his rascal goblin folk. Yes, she had what she wanted, but so much more. She had gotten what she needed.

AN: Yes, I am writing a wedding night for kicks and giggles, but I will probably have to continue that in a drabble. Ratings, you know?

Well, kiddies, it's been a long process, and I know I went crazy with the crossovers, but I still hope you enjoyed it. I loved writing it and receiving your feedback. Much love!


End file.
